


Undercover Consequences

by Laura_trekkie



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, BDSM, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 66,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_trekkie/pseuds/Laura_trekkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs and Tony go undercover to try to bring down a people-trafficking ring.  Things go wrong and Tony is hurt, but Gibbs is there to help him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 NCIS Big Bang- my first attempt at writing to a deadline, though I cheated a little and already had some of it written (though not posted anywhere). It was also my first NCIS fic.
> 
> It's set somewhere in season two- Kate's still there, McGee's on the team and there's a brief mention of the Voss incident.
> 
> Please bear in mind that I know nothing about how the JAG and US civilian justice systems work. They don’t play a big part in the story, just a passing reference to the sentences the bad guys get in the epilogue, but if either the length of sentence or the speed with which the trials are concluded is laughably wrong, please let me know.
> 
> Also, while there are elements of BDSM in this fic, I'm not very well versed in the scene and don't go into much depth beyond a bit of tying up and wearing collars. When I first posted this fic, I got a nice bit of feedback that politely pointed out what bits I'd got wrong in some scenes, but I felt it didn't impact the story enough to do a rewrite of all those scenes and, possibly, how it affected the non-BDSM scenes, too. I hope that decision doesn't spoil the story for some readers.
> 
> Spoilers: As I said above, Voss gets a mention, but that's it, I think.
> 
> Beta: Sucuri
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing recognisable is mine.

**Undercover Consequences**

 

"DiNozzo!"

Tony hated that tone of voice, never sure if it was a simple 'DiNozzo, get over here' or an 'I am so pissed with you right now, DiNozzo'. Gibbs used the same tone for so many situations and Tony hadn't managed to figure out all the nuances yet in the three years he'd known the man. He glanced upwards and saw Gibbs leaning on the metal railing that ran round the mezzanine level, having just left the director's office.

Luckily Gibbs clarified this particular shout with, "Get up here."

Unfortunately, Gibbs had been in with Director Morrow for the last hour, so Tony still wasn't entirely secure in that tone's meaning. Kate's half-sympathetic, half-anticipatory glance didn't help either. So, as he bounded up the stairs and followed Gibbs' retreating back into the director's office, Tony scoured his mind for anything he had done recently that might warrant being hauled in front of Morrow.

He couldn't think of anything and any remaining doubts he had were dispelled by the sight of a rear admiral sitting in one of Morrow's visitor chairs. The man appeared to be not too many years older than Gibbs, but he'd let himself go to seed, his middle age spread defeating even the flattering cut of his uniform. He also had a round face and double chin. His hair was mostly grey, what remained of it, anyway.

"Agent DiNozzo, have a seat," Morrow said.

There was only one empty visitor chair, but Gibbs had stalked over to stand by the bookshelf, so Tony mentally shrugged and sat down, waiting for an introduction to the Navy man. Morrow quickly obliged, "Agent DiNozzo, Rear Admiral Keeffe."

Tony leant across to shake hands, "Sir."

"Agent DiNozzo," Admiral Keeffe returned.

"We have a case?" Tony asked, still completely in the dark.

"We do indeed," Morrow responded. "Admiral Keeffe has been detailing a disturbing human-trafficking operation."

Tony started at that. Not something he'd expected at all. "Slavery?" he said.

Keeffe took up the narrative, "Unfortunately so, Agent DiNozzo. We have been aware of it for some months, carefully gathering intel. One of our ships out of Norfolk that routinely resupplies our base in Bahrain has been returning with refugees from the surrounding areas- Egypt, Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and even a few Afghanis. They're smuggled in the cargo containers and judging by the state in which they arrive, they aren't treated very well."

Here, Morrow offered Tony a folder, which turned out to contain surveillance photos of various stages of the operation, including the sick and dirty appearance of the refugees as they were released from their cargo containers. He scowled, but something didn't add up. "Forgive me, sir, but if you have all this proof, why do you need us? Can't you just shut it down by arresting the captain and his cohorts?"

"Certainly we could arrest the captain and the others involved, but we want the person he's supplying."

"Is he Navy too?"

"We don't know, but think he, or they, are more likely civilian, or ex-Navy."

"So why not hand it to the civilian authorities?"

At this the admiral frowned, but looked uneasy, "The Pentagon understandably wants to keep such a heinous activity as quiet as possible. The civilian authorities are much more likely to leak the information and it was decided to use NCIS if at all possible."

Tony bristled very slightly at that, having been one of those civilians until three years ago. He certainly wouldn't have leaked information like that. Before he could think on it anymore, however, maybe say something he’d regret, Gibbs broke his silence.

"We need to set up an undercover op to try to find out who Captain Nemec meets, who his buyer is."

"Okay, do we have anything to go on? How long have we got to set this up?" Tony asked. He was always willing to go UC and he was damned good at it too. That's why Gibbs used him so often.

"They get in again in three days time. As for information, it took some digging, but we found out that he and his XO, Commander Davies, frequent a discrete club when they are on shore leave. It…" Keeffe tailed off and Tony was fascinated to note a slight blush. He would have thought all embarrassment and the ability to blush would have been thoroughly squashed by the time a man reached admiral.

Gibbs came to the man's rescue, "It's a gay club, DiNozzo, one that caters to the BDSM market."

Tony's eyes widened a little, but he just said, "Okay, what's the plan?"

"We go in together-"

" _Together_ together, or as staff?" Tony questioned.

" _Together_. I can't see either of them lowering their guard around staff members, especially not new ones. A new couple on the scene is more likely to strike up a conversation," Gibbs said.

"Makes sense," Tony agreed.

Admiral Keeffe seemed somewhat taken aback by Tony's equanimity. He leant forward in his seat slightly and said, "You do realise that you will be required to act as Agent Gibbs'…" he tailed off with a moue of disgust.

"As Gibbs' sub, yes, sir," Tony helped the man along, amused by his distaste.

Keeffe still wasn't satisfied, apparently, "Do you understand what's involved, have you ever been to one of these dens of iniquity before?"

'Oh my god, ' _dens of iniquity_ '?' Did anybody even say that anymore, Tony wondered? He was becoming less and less patient with the man. "Yes, sir. I worked vice for two years, raided quite a few of these places."

Keeffe's face assumed an entirely different look of distaste, "You were a police officer?"

Tony really didn't appreciate that tone, but a sharp look from Gibbs kept him in his seat and his mouth shut. He did shoot a cold glare at the man though.

"Admiral, Agent DiNozzo is my second in command. I trust him implicitly and can assure you that he is perfectly capable of pulling off this op and didn't pick up any 'bad habits' of leaking information in his time as a police officer," Gibbs' voice was perfectly polite, but the tone was arctic. Apparently, it was one thing for him to needle Tony about his work, but another entirely for some outsider to do it.

Internally, Tony basked in this not-often-voiced regard that Gibbs held him in. Sure, he knew Gibbs was pleased with his work - he wouldn't still be his second if Gibbs wasn't, but it was nice to have it voiced out loud sometimes.

It seemed Morrow felt the same way as Gibbs, because he added, "It also would be wise to remember that you came to us for help in a matter that really isn't in our remit. You've already had someone else do the part of the investigation that we would have done and any civilian involvement should really be referred to the FBI."

"Of course, my apologies, Agent DiNozzo. I meant no disrespect, but am merely concerned that you understand what you will be subjecting yourself to."

"Thank you for your concern, sir, but I assure you it is unnecessary. I am perfectly aware of what will be required," Tony said in a tone very similar to Gibbs' earlier cold politeness.

There was a second of awkward silence before Morrow stepped in once again, "Well, Admiral, if we have all the information from you, I'd like my agents to get right on with planning the op."

At the admiral's nod, Gibbs headed for the door, collecting Tony with a glance. Neither man said goodbye to the pompous admiral.

*~*

Kate was sat behind her desk, watching the two men as they walked down the stairs to the bullpen, when they reached her she said, "What did you do this time, Tony?"

"Hey! I didn't do anything. What makes you think I did?" Tony almost-whined.

"You're scowling," she said reasonably.

"So's Gibbs!" Tony protested.

"Gibbs always scowls," Kate shot back. Gibbs scowled at her, but she ignored him and Tony smirked, earning himself a slap round the head.

Kate went on as if nothing had interrupted her, "But you, you only scowl when you've been told off."

"Tell her, boss," Tony pleaded, looking at Gibbs with puppy dog eyes.

Kate also swung all her attention to him and Gibbs waited a few moments, until she looked very eager and Tony was starting to look nervous, even though he was completely innocent. Finally he relented, "Tony's right, Kate, he didn't do anything. He's just pissed at a rear admiral who wasn't too pleased to find out that the man he needed undercover used to be a cop."

"Looked at me like I was little better than a criminal," Tony said, wounded.

Kate frowned and patted Tony's arm consolingly, while latching onto the important part of the conversation, "Undercover?"

"Yep, they need me and Tony to go UC to track down some human traffickers."

"Someone in the _Navy_ is smuggling people? What's the plan?" Kate asked, all business once more.

"That's what we need to work out. Tony and I need to figure out our cover first and then we'll let everyone else in on the planning." That said, Gibbs jerked his head at the elevator and headed off with Tony in tow.

"We'll need to speak to Abs," Tony said, "she'll know where to get the stuff we need."

"Uh huh, but we really do need to get this sorted in our heads first. This isn't going to be easy, DiNozzo."

"We'll be fine," Tony said as they stepped into the elevator.

*~*

Gibbs pressed the button that would take them down to Abby's lab, but almost immediately pushed the emergency stop. Turning to face Tony, he said, "Are you sure you can do this, DiNozzo?"

Tony frowned and said defensively, "Didn't you just finish saying you had every confidence in me?"

'Oops' Gibbs thought. Sometimes he forgot how easily Tony's confidence was knocked. Still, he had to be sure Tony could play the submissive role, or the whole thing would collapse before it started. "Well, I was hardly going to let some uppity admiral disparage my agents. The question remains though: Can you spend the whole time being submissive, however long it takes?"

"I'll be fine, boss. Question is, will you?" Tony said challengingly. And, oh, Gibbs was not having that. He decided now was as good a time as any to see just how well Tony could do. He moved closer, just enough to encroach into Tony's personal space a little and barked, "On your knees."

Tony blinked once in shock and then gracefully sank to his knees, folding his hands in his lap and lowering his head to stare at the floor. Gibbs circled round him, eyeing the kneeling man critically. He was pleased to note that Tony didn't try to follow him with his eyes. "Good. Now, here's the plan," he said, moving to stand close to Tony's back, trying to see if he could psyche him into twisting round. Tony didn't so much as twitch.

"Your father couldn't pay up on a big deal he had with me, so he used you as part payment. I know you don't particularly get on with you father, so you wouldn't have to work hard to find the contempt or bitterness towards him.

"We'll say it was a recent deal, maybe three months ago, that'll give us leeway behaviour-wise; in case you slip into your usual smart ass routine." He said that last to needle Tony, see if he could resist the apparent knock to his talents. Tony didn't move, not even a flinch or tensed muscle, and Gibbs had to admit that he was impressed. It raised the question though: "Just how much do you know about the scene?"

Again, Tony remained still and silent. 'Oh, he is _good_ ,' Gibbs thought. "You can speak," he added.

Tony didn't raise his head, but he did break his silence, "I went undercover in a club a lot like this one when I was with vice."

Gibbs considered that. 'That explains it then,' he thought. What he said was: "Okay, that'll work better for us.

"We need a way of keeping you with me, yet also making me seem like a good buyer for their slaves. Suggestions?"

Tony was silent for a while and Gibbs was just starting to wonder whether he'd have to give him an explicit order to speak, when he finally got a response.

"I guess it depends on whether you want me to be afraid of you or not. If I'm playing the frightened, abused slave, then I really don't think many would question your desire to have more than one person to use for your pleasure. I'm sure you could spin some suitably depraved tale about needing a spare in case you break me, or something." Tony spoke calmly, considering the subject material.

Gibbs gave the idea some thought, but eventually decided, "No, I don't think you'd be convincing in that role." He saw Tony stiffen very slightly and spoke quickly, "Before you go getting all offended, I'm not questioning your ability to flinch in the right places and generally appear cowed. I just don't think you could physically convince. You're too healthy looking. I'd imagine, if I'm such a bastard that I get my kicks from hurting you, I'd probably do other things like starve you and we don't have time for you to lose enough weight to look starved.

"What else?" he added.

Again, Tony thought for a while. "Okay, how about this: I'm your personal sub and, although I was given to you without any say in the matter, we actually get along, so you’re keeping me. But you also enjoy training and breaking subs and you found that some people are too lazy to train their own. So you get the benefit of doing what you enjoy and then selling them, making a profit and getting the opportunity to start all over again with a new sub."

Gibbs liked that idea. It would allow them to be natural around each other, one less thing to have to concentrate on, allowing more attention to be paid to their surroundings and suspects. Yet also had the benefit of explaining why Gibbs was in the market for new blood. He looked down at Tony, noticing for the first time that he was still kneeling, head bowed. He grinned at the top of Tony's head, then said, "Yeah, that'll work. If we set someone up as a previous satisfied customer, in case they want any proof, hopefully they'll be convinced and put me in contact with their man to see if anything takes my fancy."

He bent down so he could put his mouth close to Tony's ear, "Good work, DiNozzo," he said in a low tone. He knew he didn't really praise Tony enough, but he also couldn't resist pushing things a bit and was pleased to note the faintest shiver run through Tony. Whether it was because of the praise, or his voice and closeness, Gibbs didn't know and he tried to tell himself that he didn't care either.

He stepped away and said, "Okay, DiNozzo, you can get up now. I'm convinced you can pull this off."

Tony rose just as gracefully as he'd knelt down. As soon as he was upright, the real Tony came back and he smirked at Gibbs, who was forced to swat him round the head, though he smiled faintly as he did it.

Gibbs then hit the emergency stop button again and the elevator restarted its journey.

The elevator quickly reached its destination and the two men stepped out and covered the short walk to the glass doors which opened into Abby's lab. Pushing open the door, they were nearly deafened by the blaring sound of Abby's latest heavy metal band. Wincing, Gibbs caught her eye as she bounced from machine to machine, signing for her to turn the music off, rather than trying to shout over it.

*~*

Abby grinned and bounced over to the stereo. She shut it off and spun to face them. "What can I do for my two favourite guys?"

"We need IDs, Abs," Gibbs said, adding, "and a collar for Tony," with a smirk.

"Gibbs, I--" Tony protested, but was cut off from saying anything more by a scowl.

"O-kay," Abby said slowly as she eyed Tony. She couldn't help the image of him wearing a collar and little else that flashed into her mind. Something must have shown on her face, because Tony flushed slightly. She gave him her most innocent grin and sat in her rolling chair, propelling herself over to the right computer for creating fake identities. "Tell me more."

"There's a captain of a supply ship who's part of a people-smuggling ring. We need to find out who his contact is for unloading the slaves," Gibbs explained.

"Slaves?" Abby asked.

"Well, we assume so," Tony replied. "Nobody's been able to find out what happens to the poor bastards once they hit US soil, but Captain Nemec isn't bringing them across through any sort of altruistic feelings."

"So where will you be going?"

"He and his XO spend a lot of their shore leave in an exclusive, and discrete, club that caters to the gay BDSM market. We need to go in as a couple and try to get close to Nemec. DiNozzo's going to be my sub."

Abby eyed them both with a sly grin, wondering if this would be the thing that finally made them realise their feelings for each other. She doubted anyone other than Ducky knew them well enough to have any idea, Tony and Gibbs certainly didn't, but being in such a sexually charged atmosphere might open their eyes at last. Feeling mischievous, she said, "You sure you can pull it off, Tony?"

Tony gave an exasperated: "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Abby's grin grew, "I just have a hard time seeing you being submissive. You're as much of an alpha dog as the bossman." Gibbs scowled at that assessment, but Abby was unbowed, simply saying, "Of course he is, Gibbs, otherwise he'd just roll over and play dead like McGee does."

Tony obviously didn't know whether to be flattered by her alpha comment, or offended by her lack of faith in his abilities. He went for a little of both, preening slightly before saying, "I can too be submissive."

"It's true," Gibbs said, "we just tested it." He laughed at Tony's scowl and Abby's prompt demand that he spill the details. "Some other time, Abs," he said, ignoring her disappointed look.

Tony, obviously feeling the need to defend himself somehow said, "I've been undercover in one of these places before, Abs, when I worked vice."

"Tony, you've been holding out on me. I want to hear all about it; you can buy me dinner and regale me with your war stories. So," she said, going off on one of her tangents, "I want to see this, can I go in too?"

"Gay. Bar," Tony emphasised.

"You didn't say gay _men_. I could take Kate with me."

"Abs," Gibbs warned, in his 'wanting to get things back on track' tone.

"Sorry, bossman," she said, contrite, though it didn't take long for her irrepressible grin to reappear. "So, identities?" She cracked the knuckles hidden beneath black fingerless gloves and poised her fingers over the keyboard, a questioning eyebrow raised in Gibbs' direction.

Gibbs stared off into the middle distance as he worked out his identity. "Jethro Thompson, ex-gunny, dishonourably discharged three years ago-"

"For?" Abby interrupted.

Gibbs refocused on Abby with a frown. "I was getting to that! Assault; the dominating side got out of hand with one of the men under my command."

"Okay. Current employment?"

"Nothing official," Gibbs said after some thought, "several shady deals, including training up and selling on submissives."

Abby raised an eyebrow at that, "Cool idea, bossman. Definitely going to fit right in with these two."

"That's the idea, Abs," Gibbs remarked dryly, chuckling at what she knew had to be a sheepish look. "And it was actually Tony's idea," he added, smirking slightly at Tony's look of shock at the acknowledgement. Abby grinned at her friend and gave him a little thumbs up with one black-nailed thumb. Tony grinned back, then they both winced when Gibbs cleared his throat.

"What about you, Tony?" Abby said, quickly deflecting attention away from herself.

Tony had been lounging against the desk during Gibbs' construction, now he pushed away and started pacing a short route in the space in front of Abby's desk. "Okay, Tony Schofield, son of Sam Schofield, who owns Schofield's Shooting Range in Baltimore." Abby caught Gibbs' raised eyebrow and, evidently, Tony did too, because he shrugged and said, "It'll explain the gun calluses.

"Dear old dad should have several assault charges against him, but nothing with my name in them; he was too careful. When I got too big for physical, he moved to mental abuse, which is why I worked my ass off at the range without getting paid. He let me teach marksmanship, but only because he didn't want to pay for a proper tutor.

"We already decided that you got me as payment for a deal. The shooting range lends itself to that deal being about guns; maybe he hired you to get him some shady weapons, you got hold of them and then he didn't have the money to pay up, hence you getting stuck with me."

He had been pacing towards the wall with the large plasma screen as he spoke and, when he spun to go back the other way, he caught Gibbs second raised eyebrow. "What? It'll help explain why I'm not cowering in fear from you - you treat me better than he did, even if I am still pretty much a slave."

"What?" he said again, more defensively, when Abby and Gibbs exchanged a glance. Abby wondered if Gibbs was thinking along the same lines she was, namely just how much of that was Tony's undercover skills and how much might be personal experience. She knew that Tony didn't speak about his family.

"That's a lot of back-story, DiNozzo," was what Gibbs said. Abby knew that Tony took a lot from Gibbs that he wouldn't take from anyone else, probably because of those unrecognised feelings he had for their boss, but she was under no illusion that asking whether his father abused him would probably get even the bossman punched.

"Well, the more back-story you come up with beforehand, the less you have to wing it in a situation, boss," Tony said with a perplexed frown, either not noticing, or more likely ignoring, the undertone to Gibbs' question.

Gibbs let it go, turning to Abby as she asked, "So, you got a job?"

Tony was on his way back towards the wall again as he replied, "Nope, not anymore, Thompson doesn't let me work unless he needs me to charm someone into a deal." He grinned mischievously at Gibbs as he spun back around once more. Gibbs swatted him as soon as he paced within reach and Abby relaxed as the familiar action soothed the last of her anxiety.

"This Sam Schofield real?" Gibbs asked and Abby realised that Tony had come up with the set up too quickly for it to be a complete fabrication.

"Yep, he was my own Huggy Bear back in Baltimore. Only white."

"What, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, bewildered as usual by Tony's TV references.

Tony eyed him in disbelief. "Huggy Bear? Starsky and Hutch? You _really_ need to get a TV, boss. Starsky and Hutch were two cops and Huggy Bear was their best informant, but he was also their friend, and that's what Sam was to me."

"So he'll go along with your cover, no problem?"

"Yeah. I'll give him a call; fill him in on the details he needs to know. Being in the job he is, he was perfectly placed to hear people making shady arms deals and he helped us out on a few, so he'll know the gist if anyone does call to check up on us."

Gibbs nodded decisively, "Okay, do it."

"Okay, so, anything else?" Abby questioned.

"Yeah, there's DiNozzo's collar," Gibbs said with a somewhat malicious glee.

Tony wasn't phased, however, "I've got one already, boss. That's what I was trying to say earlier."

"You do?" chorused Gibbs and Abby. Why hadn't she known this before? After all, Tony had been on enough nights out at Goth clubs with her over the years.

Tony smirked, "Yeah, the guys gave it to me as a 'souvenir' after that UC case I mentioned. It's in one of my cupboards somewhere, I'm sure of it."

"Okay," Gibbs said slowly, "scratch the collar, Abs, but we will need something set up in one of the safe houses. This isn't going to be an in-and-out op and we need a base. The house on Vine Street is closest to the club. You know anyone in your circle can do a little work setting it up? Nothing fancy, we've only just moved here from Baltimore and don't have much set up yet. Just the bare essentials."

"You know, Gibbs, just because I'm a Goth, doesn't mean I know stuff about the BDSM scene," Abby pointed out archly. She _did_ know people, but Gibbs always said not to assume and she couldn't resist teasing him about it.

Gibbs gave her a look that said he didn't believe her, but still, he soothed her with, "I know that, Abby. That's why I asked if you knew anyone and not whether you could do it yourself."

Abby allowed herself to be mollified and considered a moment before grinning, "Yeah, I think I know just the guy. I'll give him a call."

"Great, thanks, Abs," Gibbs said. He turned away, presumably heading back to the bullpen to let the rest of the team know what was happening.

As Gibbs moved away, Abby took the opportunity to ask Tony about his undercover op, trying once again to wheedle some information out of him. It wasn't to be, though, as Gibbs barked, "DiNozzo." Abby didn't miss the thankful look Tony shot Gibbs as the door closed behind them. She had no doubt that Gibbs had only shouted to get Tony out of her interrogation, not that she thought he'd ever admit it.

She once again turned to her computers and set about bringing up the various programmes she needed to make the relevant documents for her friends.

*~*

Gibbs and Tony stepped into the elevator and Gibbs sent it on its way, raising an eyebrow when Tony reached across and hit the emergency stop button. “DiNozzo?” he queried.

“Listen, boss, I’ve been thinking,” Tony said seriously. “We don’t know what type of relationship Nemec and Davies have-“

Gibbs scowled and interrupted, “Did you miss the part about it being a gay D/s club?” he asked sarcastically.

Tony gave an irritated huff. “I meant the nuances, Gibbs! Are they all cute and loving? Does the dom hurt the sub? Are they pretty tame, or full out bondage- shackles, gags and so on?”

“You got a point, DiNozzo?” Gibbs interrupted again.

Tony frowned, “Yes, I was just getting to it! I’m glad we’re going in on the tame side, but if, you know, you have to make it look good…”

Tony tailed off, but Gibbs thought he knew what he was saying. Still, he wanted to be sure. “You giving me permission to hit you, Tony?” he asked quietly.

“Well, yeah, if you think it will help our cover,” was the hesitant response.

Gibbs took a moment to give Tony’s offer the respect it deserved, then decided to lighten the mood. “I hit you all the time, DiNozzo, what makes you think I need permission now?”

Tony smiled, showing Gibbs he appreciated the shift in tone. “I don’t think a head slap would do if it comes to it, boss,” he said,

Sobering, Gibbs replied, “Hopefully it won’t come to anything at all. Now, come on, we’ve got more plans to make.” He set the elevator on its way again.

The two men stepped out of the elevator once it reached the bullpen and moved to Gibbs' desk with an inquisitive Kate and McGee in their wake. Well, McGee being McGee, he managed to look both inquisitive and faintly terrified.

Gibbs propped himself against his desk and snatched up his coffee cup, scowling when he found it to be empty. Looking up, he caught DiNozzo hastily wiping a smirk from his face and, with a raised eyebrow, said, "You might as well get into practice now," then he held out the empty mug and added, "go make me coffee."

Tony just stared at him, so Gibbs raised his other eyebrow and waved the mug for emphasis, holding Tony's stare until the younger man backed down with a dramatic huff of air. "Fine," he pouted and snatched the mug none too gently, before stalking off to the break room. Kate's request for her own cup of coffee winning her a one-finger salute, though he didn't turn round or slow down.

Gibbs grinned at Tony's back and then at his two remaining, similarly grinning, agents. Both Kate and McGee loved seeing Tony get brought down a peg or two, as he was quick enough to do to them.

Gibbs quickly sobered, however, and handed Kate the file they had received from Admiral Keeffe. She leafed through it, McGee reading over her shoulder, as Gibbs outlined the plan.

Tony reappeared just as Gibbs was winding up his explanation. "Here you go, boss," he said with a smile.

Gibbs took the mug cautiously and eyed the coffee suspiciously. "What'd you do to it?" he asked.

Tony frowned, "What do you mean? I didn't do anything to it. What makes you think I did?"

"That grin you're wearing, DiNozzo," Gibbs answered, now eyeing _him_ suspiciously.

Tony took on an expression of hurt, "I'm a cheerful guy, boss. What do you think I did, spit in it?" He hadn't, but the suggestion was usually enough to make people doubt.

Gibbs put the mug down untouched and Tony's grin returned, this time with a slightly evil edge to it.

Kate, apparently unwilling to let Tony regain the upper hand completely, spoke up, "So, Tony, Gibbs says you're going to be spending the next few days on your knees. Maybe even _weeks_ ," she added cheerfully. "You're taking pictures, right, Gibbs?" she enquired. Tony just screwed up his face in a way that would have led to him sticking his tongue out if he'd been a kid. "Very attractive, Tony," Kate said.

McGee was still smiling to himself and Tony latched on to that, sure he could get the younger agent to back down easier than he could Kate. "What are you grinning at, Probie?"

"Oh, I'm just thinking. Gibbs wants me to put a wire on you, but I don't think we can risk putting it on your chest like we would usually. You'll be wearing a collar right? Maybe I can get the wire in there."

Tony's grin was predatory and McGee's humour faltered as he waited to see what his response would be. Tony looked between McGee and Gibbs thoughtfully and said, "You know, boss, I'm beginning to think everyone's got a point. No one seems to think I can pull off the submissive role, so I've had a better idea: You can take Probie in. He's already got the deer-in-the-headlights look down, just stick him in a collar and some nipple clamps and voila."

Tony's grin seemed to grow in direct proportion to McGee's discomfort levels. Kate and Gibbs both chuckled and mental points were awarded to Tony.

Gibbs knew that his team used the bickering to cope with the often unpleasant aspects of their job, hell he did it too, but he felt it was time to get back to the serious matters at hand now though. So when he saw Kate's mouth open for the next volley he stepped in, "Okay, people, let's get back to work. We've got an operation to set up. DiNozzo, call your guy in Baltimore, McGee, get started on the electronics, Todd, get me what background you can find that the navy didn't think we needed to know."

As the team scattered, Gibbs downed the coffee Tony had brought him and headed up the stairs to give Morrow the op particulars and make arrangements.

*~*

Half an hour or so later, Gibbs had finished updating Morrow. Not that McGee knew that, until Gibbs bellowed, "McGee!" while still only half way down stairs from MTAC.

McGee jumped and Tony smirked, asking, "You okay there, Probie?"

'God, between Gibbs and Tony, I'll be lucky if I haven't suffered a breakdown before Christmas,' McGee thought to himself. He glared at Tony and called, "Yes, boss?"

Gibbs had finished descending the stairs and came to stand by the two younger men. "You get the wires ready?"

"Yes, boss. I was just showing Tony his." Tony raised his hand so that Gibbs could see the small plastic box he held. Gibbs took it and McGee had to stifle a grin at the sceptical look that screwed up his face as he saw the pair of tiny discs inside. The bugs were no more than half a centimetre across and so thin you could barely see them end on.

"They're a little small," Gibbs said, proving, in McGee's mind, that the man had no understanding about electronics; still believing that bigger was better.

"They needed to be for where they're going," McGee supplied.

"Which is?" Gibbs asked.

Here, McGee shot an amused glance at Tony, meeting a scowl coming his way, "Beneath the tail of Tony's collar, boss. That way, they're hidden from view, but not really covered enough to muffle the sound receptors.

"As I was just telling Tony, the one drawback to their size is that the power supply is limited and you can't just change the battery. That's why there're two, one for back up, but even so, they're best used as sparingly as is safe."

"So how long do they last?" Gibbs asked.

Ah. McGee fidgeted slightly and glanced down as he admitted, "We don't actually know, boss."

"You don't know?" Tony and Gibbs chorused.

McGee looked up again and found Tony scowling at him, which turned out to be the lesser of two evils when he glanced Gibbs' way and was nearly felled by the strength of his glare. He had to force himself not to step back.

"Don't look at me like that," he defended, somewhat timidly, "I didn't invent them, just requisitioned them. They've only been tested for eight hours running time so far, they should be able to do a bit longer. And it's not as if these are all you've got. You've got your own bugs, boss." He was aware that his words were rushing over each other, but was unable to regroup under the continued Gibbs/Tony staring. He looked down again, snatching up the wires he'd procured for Gibbs' use.

"You've got the more traditional wire and battery pack, or these standard sized adhesive bugs to choose from," he said, handing over another, larger, plastic box with a small battery pack, a neatly coiled mic wire and two thumbnail sized discs.

Neither man seemed massively mollified, so McGee picked up the final box on his desk. "I also got these tracking devices. There're four, in case you need us to track either of you, or anything else."

Gibbs hadn't asked for those and McGee hoped the initiative would earn him back a few brownie points. He waited nervously as Gibbs handed Tony his box back and took the second box from McGee, still frowning. McGee almost forgot to breathe and then berated himself for being an idiot. Still…

Then Gibbs looked up with a smile and said, "Good job, McGee," and McGee nearly collapsed in relief. Tony slapped him on the shoulder companionably, before snapping the lid on his box shut.

Gibbs shut his boxes and stowed them in his pockets, turning to Tony, "You call your guy?"

"Yep, he's fully briefed in his part and willing to do it."

"Good. Finish up any loose ends then get home and get your stuff ready. We're moving to the safe house tonight and will be getting the lay of the land for the next few nights, before the targets get in."

With that, the two men wandered away from McGee's desk and he finally crumpled into his chair with a huge sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to avoid that breakdown. Then he looked up and caught Kate smiling at him knowingly. 'Then again, maybe not,' he thought morosely.

*~*

At first glance, even second or third, the safe house on Vine Street looked just like all its neighbours: A two story brick building, three steps leading from the pavement to the front door. That door opened into a hallway with further doors off into the living room, dining room, kitchen, small toilet and down to the basement. The stairs led up to a small landing with three bedrooms, a bathroom and access to the loft space.

What most people didn't know, and wouldn't notice, was that the front door was steel and not the wood it appeared to be; there was a camera permanently trained on the doorway, capturing the face of every single person that approached the door; and the doorbell hid a small, state of the art, fingerprint reader for added security.

Once inside the house there was virtually nowhere that a person could go without being on camera, the toilet and bathroom being the exceptions. Every windowpane was bulletproof glass; every window and external door was alarmed. The basement actually held a small security hub, equipped with a multitude of monitors for the cameras, a computer networked to the NCIS databases to speed up print and facial recognition, and a cot and camp stove so that a two man team could be stationed there for the duration if needed. There was external access to the basement, out of the line of sight of the house's windows, once again reinforced and requiring fingerprints to get in.

Furthermore, for times of extreme danger, the attic space held a panic room, a steel box with dead-bolted door and more fingerprint recognition, as well as camera and communications, all linked to the basement monitors.

Lastly, there was a double-car garage attached to the house, the door reinforced, so that vehicles could be securely locked away, free from tampering and sabotage.

The panic room had never been needed yet, and it was unlikely to see action this time, either. Similarly, the surveillance room was unoccupied, as Gibbs didn't anticipate bringing any of the suspects back to the house. The possibility was always there though, which was why Gibbs had asked Abby to arrange for the basics to be added to the usual décor. Also, he felt that it would help them settle into their characters if they were surrounded by the tools and toys of the trade all the time and not just at the club.

Gibbs and Tony pulled into the garage at around six p.m. Tony had driven home in his own car to pack his gear and then Gibbs had fetched him in the requisitioned car. After all, Tony Schofield was never allowed out of Jethro Thompson's sight and that precluded him owning his own car.

Both men got out of the car and unloaded a large suitcase each. The house was fully equipped, but who knew when, _if_ , they'd have time to do any laundry? Consequently, both had packed enough clothes for a week, along with all the necessary toiletries. Tony's case also held his collar.

They entered the house through the front door, after Gibbs had shut the garage using the button on the key fob. They set their cases on the floor and moved to examine the additions.

The first was quite immediate- the row of coat hooks inside the front door now held a silver chained, leather handled dog lead. Gibbs wiggled it between two fingers, listening to the muted jingling of the links as they moved.

Immediately to their left was the door to the living room. Standing in the doorway, a person faced the side view of an armchair that was against the wall of the front of the house. There was also a window in that wall and a coffee table beneath it, covered in out-of-date magazines. To the right was a couch, on the opposite side to the couch was the fireplace and TV, the remaining wall held another armchair and a door to the dining room. The only addition in the room was a large cushion on the floor next to the arm of the couch, presumably where Tony would kneel next to his master. The three piece suite was comfortable, but not top of the range.

Gibbs nudged the cushion with his foot and grinned at Tony, "At least you'll be comfortable later, DiNozzo."

"Yeah," Tony grinned sarcastically, then added, "I'm not kneeling at your feet once we leave that club, boss."

"Uh huh," was Gibbs' reply. Tony frowned at him and Gibbs smirked.

The dining room held a light-coloured wooden with four matching chairs- ash, if Gibbs wasn’t mistaken. There was also a big wooden sideboard taking up the left hand side of the room, far too large for the few plates, decks of cards and board games it held. The room faced onto the back yard, though the patio doors had long been replaced with an ordinary window for security's sake. The right hand wall held an old mirror and the door to the kitchen. There were scene-setting additions in the dining room, nor the kitchen.

The kitchen was a small room, but big enough for units almost all the way along the back wall, the sink, as was customary in most houses, was underneath the window overlooking the yard. The door into the back garden was at the end of the units. The right hand wall held the small fridge freezer, a washing machine and drier. The back wall had the door into the hallway and the small stove. There was also a microwave, toaster and coffee machine, all a few years old, but perfectly functional.

Tony checked the fridge and then rifled the cupboards. He sighed happily when he found a box of cereal, opening the top and popping a handful into his mouth. The enthusiasm soon waned and he started chewing exaggeratedly.

"Stale, Tony?" Gibbs chuckled.

"We need to go shopping, boss," Tony announced, still chewing the dry cereal. Gibbs frowned at the few bits of chewed up cereal dust that filtered to the floor.

"You know, I'm really starting to see why Kate's always going on about your disgusting eating habits, DiNozzo. And we don't have time to shop."

Tony tossed the cereal in the bin and looked through a few more cupboards. "There's no coffee anywhere, Gibbs."

"Shopping it is," Gibbs replied instantly. Tony chuckled and was rewarded with a slap round the head.

They didn't bother checking out the last two doors downstairs; the basement door was locked when not being used and wouldn't have been modified anyway, seeing as it was never used as part of the house, while the downstairs bathroom wasn't big enough for anything other than a toilet and small sink.

Instead, the two men gathered their cases and headed upstairs. Directly at the top of the stairs was a window onto the backyard. To the right was the bathroom, which had the typical sink, toilet and bath with wall-mounted showerhead. There was also a small, mirrored cabinet above the sink, which had Tony grimacing at the old tube of toothpaste that someone had left oozing and which had started to grow fur in the intervening months. He shuddered and promptly shut the door; glad he'd remembered to pack his own toothpaste.

Turning to the left, there was a narrow landing that ran parallel with the stairs to the front of the house and another window. The master bedroom was directly opposite the bathroom and the two smaller bedrooms were on either side of the hallway at the front.

Saving the best for last, Tony and Gibbs headed for the front bedrooms first. Neither of these should have had anything done to them as, theoretically, Tony would be, if not in the same bed, then at least in the same room as Gibbs. The two bedrooms were identical inasmuch as they contained an unmade double bed with the headboard on the wall opposite the window onto the street, two bedside cabinets, a wardrobe and chest of drawers. Where they differed was in the style of furniture. The left hand bedroom was cream walled and carpeted, the headboard, bed frame and the rest of the furniture painted in gloss white. The right hand room was better with duck egg blue on the walls a darker blue carpet and pine furniture.

Tony picked the second room, deciding, "I can't sleep in that much glaring whiteness."

"I know what you mean," Gibbs concurred, "it's a little too ‘home decorating magazine’."

"Exactly," Tony replied as he set his case down in the age-old method of claiming a bed. "Shall we go see where sir will be sleeping?" Tony enquired cheekily.

"Yep," Gibbs said, already on his way out of Tony's room and back along the landing.

Gibbs pushed the door open and entered, Tony close on his heels. As with the other two rooms, there was a bed, bedside cabinets, wardrobe and chest of drawers, but here the bed was queen sized and there were six drawers in the unit, rather than the three that the other two rooms had. The walls were the same cream colour as the first bedroom, but there was a light brown carpet and the units were darker too, so it wasn’t as glaring as the other room.

Even in this room, the hub of their supposed activities, nothing much had been added. There were sturdy rings attached to the wall above the headboard, two more in the ceiling and a further one low down in the corner opposite the door, where there was also another large cushion like the one in the lounge. There was a note on the bedside cabinet nearest the door and Gibbs picked it up.

"What's it say?" Tony asked.

Gibbs didn't reply, but he did pull out the top drawer of the cabinet. He stared at the contents for a moment before moving over to the wardrobe. Tony took his place beside the open drawer, looking down to see a new tube of lube, leather shackles, several coils of thin, but strong rope. There was also a dildo, which Tony lifted out to examine.

He was turning it round and examining how real it looked when he caught Gibbs out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, saw the enquiring eyebrow and dropped the dildo back into the drawer like he'd been burned, before slamming it shut sharply. Gibbs just smirked and said, "More toys in here," while waving at the open door of the wardrobe.

Tony, still a little embarrassed, cautiously peered inside to see several lengths of chain and a flogger.

"Jerry wishes us an enjoyable time and says to give him a call if we want to add anything to the basics," Gibbs said, brandishing the note.

"How did you get Morrow to agree to a civilian coming in to set this up, anyway?" Tony wanted to know.

"Simple, no one at NCIS has the necessary knowledge to do this. Also he's one of Abby's friends and she wouldn't have suggested him if she wasn't one hundred percent sure he could be trusted. Plus, he didn't get in here alone, he had one of our guys here to supervise at all times."

"Oh, who got that job?" Tony asked with a grin. The grin widened when Gibbs told him Simpson had had that joy. "No way. Oh man, I woulda _loved_ to have seen his face," Tony crowed. There wasn't a more straight-laced, uptight agent than Simpson in the whole building. Tony could just imagine that he'd spent the whole time looking like he was sucking a particularly sour lemon.

"Yeah, that would've been somethin' to see, alright," Gibbs agreed with his own grin. A few moments later he brought things back on track, clapping his hands together once and then rubbing them briskly. "Okay, let's get the beds made, the shopping done and then get down to the club."

"On it, boss," Tony said as he headed back along the landing to his room. A brief search through the drawers yielded nothing, but Tony then noticed a drawer in the bed itself and that did contain bed linen. It was a little musty, but clean. Tony knew that the house was cleaned every three or so months, as well as immediately after it had been used, but the sheets were only laundered after they'd been used and then sat in the drawers 'til they were next needed. Still, once he'd got everything on the bed, the smell wasn't too bad; nothing a bit of fresh air wouldn't cure.

Another hunt through the drawers turned up the key for the window lock in the right hand bedside cabinet. He opened it a crack, not enough for anyone to fit through, but certainly enough to get the air moving. He knew that the window alarm would have activated as soon as he opened it, but it was a silent alarm and there was no one in the basement to see or hear it, so it wasn’t a problem. Satisfied, he turned to his case. He and Gibbs had packed enough for five days, so Tony decided to put it all away in the drawers and wardrobe, rather than leave it all packed up.

Ten minutes later, Tony headed back along to the master bedroom. He leant against the doorframe and watched as Gibbs shut the drawer he'd just filled. Catching sight of the unsurprisingly military-neat bed, Tony said, "Hang on, boss, I think I've got a quarter here somewhere that we can test the bed with." He patted his pockets searchingly.

"Very funny," Gibbs scowled. Tony couldn't tell whether the scowl was because of his comment, or because he was too far away for a convenient head slap. He grinned unrepentantly. "You done?" Gibbs asked.

"Yep."

"Okay, let's go buy some essentials."

*~*

The local supermarket was on the next block, easy walking distance, so they did. Once they arrived, Gibbs announced that Tony was pushing the trolley, citing it as more practice.

Tony didn't complain; it meant he could safely leave Gibbs ensconced in the coffee aisle and take care of the rest himself. He moved up and down the aisles, filling the trolley with a small selection of fruit, a loaf of bread, butter and jam for toast, bacon and eggs and pancakes for if they didn't want toast, a couple of cartons of milk, some cans of soup (just in case) and a six pack of beer. He reasoned that they would probably order in pizza or Chinese in the evenings, and beer was an essential with either of those options.

He was standing in front of the cereal shelf, trying to decide whether he should get a 'grown up' cereal, or risk Gibbs' mocking and go for one he actually liked, when another trolley appeared next to his own. He glanced up and was met with a dazzling smile, attached to a curvaceous blonde woman about his age. Tony being Tony, he smiled back, which was, of course, the very moment Gibbs appeared. Not that Tony knew that until he felt warm breath as Gibbs spoke into his ear, "See anything you like, Tony?"

Tony started slightly and scowled at Gibbs, trying not to shiver at the close proximity. "I'm trying to decide between Shredded Wheat and Cap'n Crunch," he said. He wondered why Gibbs was acting all possessive over him. It certainly couldn't be for the reason Tony wished, so he had to conclude that Gibbs was messing with a possible prospect just because he could and it amused him.

The woman, who, as Tony had feared, was no longer giving him the dazzling smile, just the polite smile one gives to strangers, was at least polite enough to have not simply walked away when it became apparent that Tony was seemingly unavailable. She spoke up now, "You look like a Cap'n Crunch kinda guy to me," she offered.

"What, you mean like a big kid?" Gibbs said. As he spoke he pressed in close to Tony's back so that he could lean round him and drop his coffee selection in the trolley.

"Hey," Tony protested. He didn't really mind when Gibbs made disparaging comments about him around the team; they all knew him and knew he was actually competent, but every now and again it bothered Tony a little when Gibbs did it in front of strangers. He didn't like the idea that these people would go away thinking less of him, without getting to know the real him. This was apparently one of the bothering times.

He stared at the choices a moment longer before Gibbs demanded, "Just pick one, Tony, we have other places to be," and Tony quickly snatched a box of Cap'n Crunch and dropped it in the trolley. He gave a departing smile to the woman and was dismayed to see she was now giving him a slightly pitying look, presumably feeling sorry for him having to put up with Gibbs on a regular basis.

They moved to the check out and Tony announced cheerfully, "Slaves don't carry money," even though he had his wallet in his pocket.

Gibbs scowled but said nothing. It was all reimbursed anyway. He got his own back a few minutes later, once the shopping was all paid for and packed up. "Slaves may not carry money, but they do carry bags."

It was Tony's turn to scowl as he ended up carrying everything. "Come on, boss, it's not like I don't do pretty much your every bidding as it is. I don't need practice."

"So practice not whining about it," Gibbs smirked.

Tony opened his mouth to protest. Gibbs raised his eyebrows. Tony shut his mouth and gave a small huff of air through his teeth. Gibbs smirked some more.

*~*

It didn't take them long to put the shopping away, especially once Gibbs realised that Tony had packed the coffee at the bottom, and he pitched in so he could get the caffeine brewing ASAP.

Tony grabbed his cereal, filling a bowl and dousing it in milk before offering the box to Gibbs. Gibbs grimaced and said, "I'll stick to coffee thanks, DiNozzo."

Tony gave a 'suit yourself' half shrug, put the box down and then turned around so he could lean his back against the worktop while he ate and still see Gibbs, too.

They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes; the only sounds the quiet scrape of spoon on ceramic and gentle bubbling of the coffee. Tony finished eating and was rinsing his bowl as the coffee finished brewing and Gibbs poured two cups. He set one on the side next to Tony and received a smile and a thank you. He nodded slightly, then led the way into the living room.

Once the two men were comfortably ensconced on the couch, Gibbs said, "So, what did you have to do last time you went undercover in one of these places?"

"Pretty much what I expect I'll be doing this time: A lot of kneeling next to my partner, wearing a collar and looking suitably submissive. We didn't try to convince anyone that we were into the bondage scene, just light D/s and the occasional tying to the bed."

"You get the guys you were after?"

"We did," Tony confirmed. He frowned thoughtfully, then added, "In fact, we got more on them when I was on my own. If these guys are anything like the ones we went after back then, they see the submissive as part of the furniture, a slave to be used and ignored. They don't censor themselves, just like people don't watch their tongues around waiters or cleaners. If you get the chance, once we've made contact and you've got your need for new subs on the table, you should visit the men's room, see what they let slip without you there."

Gibbs mulled this over for a while. "We'll see," he said eventually. "If they don't seem like they could be a threat to you on your own, I'll head off for a few minutes."

"I can take care of myself," Tony bristled, only to be brought down with a crash when Gibbs retorted with,

"That's just it, DiNozzo, you _can't_ take care of yourself. Not without breaking our cover."

Tony's jaw snapped shut. He clearly hadn't considered that fact in his hot-headed response to a perceived slight. Gibbs glared at him a few seconds more, until he was certain Tony had got the message. When Tony relaxed against the back of the couch, Gibbs moved his attention to his watch. It was a little after seven. "Okay. I want to get to the club at about 9.30, so we've got time to order in. Chinese?"

"Sure, boss," Tony answered.

*~*

The food was ordered, delivered and eaten by 9.00, it took five minutes to drive to the club, so there was time for them both to grab a quick shower before getting ready.

Gibbs didn't put too much effort into his wardrobe. He didn't need to wear anything out of the ordinary, as long as it was decent. He picked a light grey button up shirt, khaki trousers and tan suede boots. It hadn't been cold out earlier, but just in case, he also picked up his tan suede jacket. The jacket wasn't quite the same shade as the boots, but Gibbs, not being all that fashionably inclined, didn't really care.

Satisfied, he strode the short distance to Tony's door and knocked. "Ten minutes until we need to leave, DiNozzo," he called.

"Be out in five, boss," was the muffled response.

In typical Gibbs fashion, he didn't bother with any sort of acknowledgement, just nodded to himself and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where he was faced with a dilemma: He wanted coffee. The pot had enough for most of a mug, but it was stone cold by now. There wasn't enough time to make a new pot, however. He glared at the pot as if it was its fault, then snatched it up and emptied it into his mug. With a grimace, he put the mug in the microwave for thirty seconds.

Once the microwave pinged, he withdrew the mug and gave a tentative sip. Not the best, but at least it was hot. It'd have to do. He took the coffee and settled on the settee, waiting for Tony to come down.

*~*

'Be out in five,' Tony had said, but in truth, he was already dressed and was sat on the bed waiting for Gibbs to go downstairs so he could use the bathroom for the finishing touches.

He wore a plain white t-shirt, not muscle-shirt tightness, but certainly snug enough to show off his lean torso. His trousers were soft leather, again tight, but not enough to pinch in uncomfortable places while kneeling. The leather was a rich, deep plum colour, matt finished with just enough reflectiveness to highlight Tony's ass and legs. He wore his most comfortable black leather boots, another must when kneeling for a long time and not wanting to cut circulation to his toes. Lastly was the collar. Made from the same supple leather as the trousers, it was about an inch tall and finished with a simple chrome buckle and ring for the lead. There was a chrome tag attached to the ring, engraved with the word 'pet' in ornate script. Tony still clearly remembered getting the collar:

 

The vice squad didn't have its own store of props, there wasn't room to house it all. Instead they had a deal with a local shop owner, Lady Beth. In return for bits of information and loaning the squad any equipment and advice they might need for an op, she was sold all the items taken in raids and not needed as evidence at a vastly lower price than she could buy them from her regular suppliers. The transactions were always done carefully, so as not to blow her cover as an informant.

Not that Lady Beth passed on huge amounts of information. Her shop was one of the reputable ones, not often frequented by the bad elements. She had a good network of friends, however, and in her line of work; she was always bound to get some undesirables. She usually found enough to make the arrangement profitable for the police as well as herself.

Tony was still fairly new to the squad when the case came up. Subs were being kidnapped and ransomed back to their doms, after the kidnappers had had their fun with them, namely raping them. All the subs were tall, lean young men with dark hair, so Tony fit the description. He was going to go in with his partner Doug as his dom. He needed the right props though, so Doug took him to meet Lady Beth for the first time.

The shop itself was like many of the others he'd been in since joining vice, if a little brighter and cleaner. Lady Beth was a revelation though. Tall and regal, she wore a leather, low cut bodice, a long, straight hanging skirt, leather boots with three inch spike heels and topped it all off with a long leather coat. All her clothing was black and very simply, yet elegantly cut to show off her well-proportioned figure. She had a pretty face with very little make up, just lipstick that was slightly darker than a natural lip colour. All this was set off by her hair, as simple and elegant as her clothes, it fell straight and reached mid shoulder and was dyed a deep blue.

Her appearance wasn't the main thing that surprised Tony, though. It was her manner. She greeted Doug like an old friend, got introduced to Tony and then she'd given him a once over and declared, "I have just the very thing." She made Doug wait at the front of the shop while she took Tony to the back, where she kept the more expensive items.

On his way past, Tony had seen that the cheaper items were mostly black leather and kept at the front of the shop. The items at the back, however, came in a wide range of colours, some finished in real silver and gold, others covered in crystals. He'd wondered whether some of it might be real diamonds, but hadn't been able to see.

Lady Beth had led him straight to the purple collar. She'd picked it up and held it next to his face. "Perfect. It brings out the green in your eyes," she'd declared before getting the matching trousers and leading him to the changing area. She'd eyed him critically once he'd changed and then taken him back into the changing room and showed him a few more tricks to finish off his appearance. "Do you know what you need to do?" she'd asked. Tony had replied that he just had to kneel and keep his eyes down.

Lady Beth had been amused by that, saying, "Yes, that'll probably suffice for your operation, but there's so much more to it than that. If you ever feel the need for a demonstration, you come and see me." Tony had blushed, which had amused the woman further.

She'd declared him finished and led him back to where Doug waited. He'd stared at Tony in amazement, eventually finding voice enough to say, "Fuck, DiNozzo, you'll be right up our suspects' alley."

Tony had been struck by a sudden thought at that point. "How did you know? How did you know we weren't just here for information? Did someone from the squad call ahead?"

Lady Beth had been amused yet again, smiling at Tony as she answered, "A dom just knows these things."

Tony had frowned, unsure of that answer until Doug had clarified, "She means you look like a sub, kid," through wheezing laughter as he all but fell to the floor clutching his side. Tony's frown had turned into a scowl as he glared at his colleague.

Lady Beth had simply smiled at him and taken him to get changed back into his regular clothes.

 

Tony had told Gibbs that his colleagues had given him the collar as a souvenir, but in truth, he'd gone to return it and the trousers after the case was closed, only to have Lady Beth tell him to keep the items, as they wouldn't ever find a better match. She'd also reminded him of her offer to introduce Tony to the finer points of being a submissive. Tony hadn't ever taken her up on the offer though, not willing to trust a stranger with that much of himself, even if she was attractive.

So Tony had told Gibbs a little white lie, thinking it'd save him a whole lot of questions to say his teammates had given it to him, rather than the local dominatrix with a thing for him.

Shaking the memory from his mind, Tony headed to the bathroom for those final touches. He'd waited until Gibbs had gone downstairs because he didn't want the man to see him half-finished, as it were. He wanted to get the true reaction to Tony in full get up.

As Lady Beth had shown him those few years ago, Tony carefully drew a thin line around each eye with a fine black make up pencil. It was just enough to further highlight the green in his eyes and give him a bit of an exotic appearance, but without really making you aware that he was wearing it unless you were right up close. It also somehow made his eyes appear large and vulnerable, though Tony had never figured out how, always getting stuck on the idea that the black should really make his eyes look smaller.

Lastly, he styled his hair into artful spikes using a gel that contained purple glitter. This wasn't such a stretch for Tony as the eyeliner, as he'd used it before when out clubbing. He stared at himself for a few moments, eyeing everything critically, then gave a sharp nod to his reflection and headed downstairs to get the reaction. He gave a brief thought to how he'd like the circumstances to be different, how he'd like to have dressed himself up just for Gibbs, but he'd squashed that by the time he stepped off the bottom step.

*~*

Gibbs heard Tony start down the stairs and drained his less-than-stellar coffee before setting the mug on the floor; he'd deal with it later. He stood and retrieved his jacket from where he'd draped it over the back of the chair next to his seat and stepped out into the hall just as Tony reached the bottom of the stairs. He stopped dead, staring at Tony's transformation.

After a few moments, Tony started to shift and said, "Is it too much, not enough? Say something, Gibbs; you're starting to freak me out."

Mentally shaking himself, Gibbs replied, "You look fine, Tony." He gave an internal wince. 'Fine?' he asked himself, 'he looks better than fine, he looks down right edible'. He was keeping that to himself, though. Tony might be willing to go undercover as his lover, but that didn't mean he'd want to know anything about Gibbs' real feelings for him. There was no way Gibbs was going to risk saying anything just before they went on an op as each other's back up.

Tony seemed satisfied by the thin compliment anyway, 'and what does that say about his expectations of praise from me?' Gibbs wondered.

Rather than dwell on that, he picked up the car keys from the little table by the door and said, "Shall we?"

Tony grabbed his leather jacket from the hook he'd hung it on earlier in the day, grabbing the lead at the same time. They slung their jackets onto the back seat, as it still wasn't cold enough to warrant wearing them, though it was certainly getting cooler and they'd likely want them later on. Tony sat with the lead in his lap, absently playing with the chain links.

The short drive was spent in companionable silence, each man finalising his upcoming role in his mind. Five minutes later Gibbs pulled into the club car park and they got out, Gibbs going round to Tony's side of the car. "You ready?" he asked.

Tony took a deep breath, then held out the lead for Gibbs and dropped his head down to fix his gaze on the floor.

Gibbs took the lead, recognising the symbolism in being the one to clip it on, the fact that Tony was already getting into his role and letting Gibbs take control. He put his fingers under Tony's chin and gently urged his head up so that he could clip the lead to the collar. He was momentarily caught by Tony's eyes, but quickly shook it off and said, "Right. Keep your eyes and ears open and we'll compare notes when we get back to the house."

Tony knew all that, of course, but he just said, "Yes, boss."

"And no more 'boss' while we're in there," Gibbs said.

"Yes, Master," Tony responded, dropping his eyes once more.

Gibbs gave a sharp nod and then moved towards the entrance, being careful to shield the lead from the bouncer's view, just in case the navy had given them bad information.

As they reached the door, the bouncer said, "New in town? I've not seen you here before." He sounded pleasant enough, but he gave both men the once over as he spoke.

"Yeah, moved here a couple of days ago. I was told this was the place to come for…" and he surreptitiously revealed the lead in his hand, not wanting to be too obvious if this wasn't actually a BDSM club. It wasn't that he didn't trust the navy's facts, but he never really took anything for granted until he, or one of his team, had verified it.

The bouncer just grinned and said, "You heard right, go on in." Gibbs noted the lingering look Tony received from the man as they stepped past him. He suspected it would be the first of many and quickly suppressed a twinge of possessiveness, consoling himself that at least not many would see those eyes Tony had fixed to the floor. Then they were inside the club and Gibbs set his mind firmly on the job at hand.

The room they stepped into struck Gibbs as being much like any other high end club he'd been in: A dance floor, which was bordered on two sides by booths that held two and four seat private tables, the bar on the third side and the fourth side consisting of a raised area, about half the size of the dance floor, that held more tables and chairs. All tastefully decorated in cool purple, blue, green and silver. The front of the bar had a design in blue neon light. The same light was used to mark the edge of the dance floor and to highlight the steps to the raised seating area and the metal railings that separated the seats from the dance floor. The tables and chairs in the booths were the typical high table and bench seat arrangement, but the ones on the raised area were more like armchairs and coffee tables; the seats padded and with arm rests, and the tables at knee height. At either end of the bar was a curtained-off doorway, one clearly marked as the men's and women's rooms, the other unidentified, but with another bouncer loitering nearby. Gibbs decided to keep an eye on that curtain to see who came and went.

The clientele also looked a lot like you'd find in any high-end club: Dressed in casual but smart clothes, many in the season's fashionable colours. They tended toward the older end of the market, rather than the brash twenty-somethings intent on drinking themselves senseless that you would find in the less-salubrious clubs. It was just that here, a good portion of the customers wore a collar and knelt on the floor, rather than sat in a chair.

Gibbs led Tony to the raised table area, settling into one of the comfortable seats where it would be easiest to strike up a conversation with other patrons and where they had a good line of sight on that curtain. Tony sank down next to him and settled against his left leg. Gibbs let go of the lead, resting it over his thigh and used his now free hand to card his fingers through Tony's lightly glittering hair.

They stayed for a few hours, Gibbs nursing a large scotch that had been brought to him by a waiter who had appeared moments after the two NCIS agents settled in their chosen spot.

Sure enough, Tony had gotten stares, which had prompted some of the regulars to strike up conversations with Gibbs, commenting on his attractive sub. Gibbs used the opportunities to find out more about the club, about the regulars, about the curtained off area- which he'd seen people going into, but not coming back out for a long time (if at all) - and generally to get their undercover personas circulating. Talking about Tony and his current companion's sub allowed Gibbs to surreptitiously drop subtle comments about his desire to get hold of more subs to train up and sell on, testing the waters and finding the people who might be useful when it came time to meet up with their targets. It would help them no end if they had a few regulars who knew Nemec and Davies and could introduce Gibbs, vouch for his interest in acquiring some of their 'merchandise'.

After two and a half hours, Gibbs felt that they'd done enough recon and that he'd spoken to enough people for their first visit and they called it a night, heading back to the house to compare notes.

*~*

Once back at the house, Tony and Gibbs settled on the couch and compared notes. Tony ruthlessly squashed the idea that Gibbs hadn't given him the chance to change first because he liked looking at Tony in the club outfit, telling himself that it was just Gibbs being his usual, thorough self and wanting to get the details sorted before they started to fade.

He wasn't surprised that their general overview of the club tallied. They'd both noted the layout and seen the curtained-off area. Tony had, however, seen more detail about the people in the club.

Part of that was because his role allowed him to surreptitiously watch what happened around him. Mostly it was training and personality though. Gibbs was a marine, trained to assess people for the threat they might pose, or, on an individual basis, he was excellent at detecting lies, but neither his training nor his personality was really geared towards people watching in general.

Tony had a cop's mind, though. His training was subtly different and complementary to Gibbs', which was what made them a good team. Tony was able to watch an entire room and pick out small details about the people, not just whether they were potentially hostile. Also, his skill as an undercover operative was his ability to read people and to blend in, so he was able to spot pretence in others. Plus, Tony liked clothes, he liked expensive clothes and he liked watching other people in expensive clothes. He had plenty to see at the club.

The clientele was clearly made up of well-off people, business men and women, high powered lawyers and law enforcement officers, a few military types, he even spotted a judge. They were people more used to wearing a uniform or a suit and they wore their button down shirts and casual trousers in a way that reflected that. It was like they felt somehow underdressed, even if they were wearing Gucci, Armani, Prada and the like.

Tony had counted six wait staff - four men and two women - circulating the tables and booths, while two more women and a man were behind the bar. He'd pegged the elder of the two women, a brunette, as the manager by the way the other staff deferred to her when there were empties to collect and orders to fill, while she acted more like a hostess, greeting and chatting with the guests.

Watching the staff had allowed Tony to pick out some of the regulars by seeing how they interacted. Drinks appearing without having been ordered, familiarity in their conversation and other small details showed those that had been to the club many times before. Tony had noticed that some of the people he spotted had been over for a word with Gibbs, but he'd also spotted several who still needed to be met.

He'd watched his fellow submissives, too and had quickly started to spot the differences between a natural sub and an unwilling one. The naturals- the majority of subs present- knelt next to their doms without needing to be kept there. Even the ones wearing leads were arranged much as Tony and Gibbs had been, with the lead resting over a leg but not held. When a natural sub was touched by their dom they had leant into it and the naturals had been allowed to dance. Sometimes they danced with their dom, other times two doms stood on the sidelines watching their subs give them a risqué show. Tony had seen one such foursome head off behind the curtain and it didn't take a genius to work out that the fabric hid the entrance to private rooms.

In contrast, the unwilling submissives had been rigid next to their doms, though a lot of them hid it well enough that it was only obvious if someone really looked. They were all restrained, their doms never releasing their hold on the leads attached to their collars and they certainly didn't dance. Tony had also noticed that quite a number of the unwilling men and women were of the correct ethnicity - North African and Middle Eastern - to have come from Nemec. Not all by any means. America had its own share of unfortunates and those willing to exploit them, but still, there were enough to make Tony take note.

He finished up his report by saying, "I'll point out the people I think are worth talking to tomorrow."

He listened to Gibbs own report and wasn't surprised that he didn't have much to add yet. The whole reason they'd gone in a few days early was because they needed to build up a bit of rapport with the regulars, find someone who could introduce them to Nemec and Davies, or better yet, the people they worked for, and just generally, and discretely, let it be known that Gibbs was in the market for some new stock to train.

They'd made a good start; Gibbs had broken the ice with a few people and made loose arrangements to get a drink with them tomorrow night. Tony was surprised to learn that quite a few of the conversations started with a comment about him. Sure, he knew he looked good in the leather, had worn it for that very reason, but it was still a surprise to find that a lot of the men and, even though it was predominantly a gay club, some of the women had commented on him. Tony vowed to try and listen in more tomorrow. He'd not bothered this time, trusting that Gibbs would tell him the pertinent facts and so tuning the voices out in order to concentrate fully on the sights. Now he wanted to know what was being said about him.

They hashed out a plan of action for the next day and then Gibbs told Tony to get a shower and change before writing up his notes. It was just after midnight when Tony stepped into the shower.

*~*

Gibbs headed into the kitchen when Tony went upstairs. He would have liked to have carried on looking at Tony in glitter and leather, but couldn't think of a way of arranging it that wouldn't reveal too much to Tony. Instead, he listened to the odd creaky floorboard, opening and closing doors and the sound of running water that marked Tony's progress, while he set the coffee machine running and made himself some toast. As he ate his toast, he thought about everything the younger man had observed at the club, impressed as usual. Also as usual, he hadn't told Tony that he'd done well. He didn’t coddle and he certainly wasn’t the type to give praise once the moment was passed, but he had enough self-awareness to know that he didn’t praise Tony as often as he should. Hell, he didn’t really praise any of his team, except maybe Abby, as often as he should. He just couldn’t seem to change his ways and really, he’d turned out ok despite Mike Franks’ praise-free mentoring.

He'd finished his toast and the first cup of coffee by the time he heard Tony start downstairs and he got up to refill his mug and pour some for Tony, knowing the younger man would see the gesture as an acknowledgement of sorts. He handed the mug to Tony when he stepped into the kitchen.

Tony, who was now dressed in some comfortable sweat pants and a well-worn grey sweatshirt, took the mug gingerly, like he was being handed explosives. Gibbs huffed, "Don't look at it like it's going to bite you, DiNozzo. I put sugar in it."

"How much sugar?" Tony questioned.

"Two spoons."

"Huh," Tony said before tentatively lifting the mug to his lips, giving it a suspicious sniff first. He took a mouthful and held it in his mouth, swishing it about with a look of concentration on his face.

"For Christ's sake, Tony, it's not wine. This is the last time I do anything nice for you," Gibbs growled.

Tony swallowed and gave his verdict: "It's drinkable. And, boss, it's just that I'm not used to you doing nice things for me," his grin taking any sting out if the words.

Gibbs scowled and moved his hand to smack Tony, but the younger man quickly cradled the mug to him and yelped, "You wouldn't risk any precious coffee being spilled, right, boss?"

He pretended to think about it for a moment and then lowered his hand. "But you needn't think I've forgotten this, DiNozzo," he warned.

Tony grinned and said, "Okay, that's good. Now, could you just go and stand over there please?" whilst pointing to the opposite side of the room.

Gibbs frowned but complied, raising an eyebrow at Tony when he continued to eye Gibbs suspiciously for a few moments. Apparently satisfied, Tony set the coffee down on the side, snatched the freezer door open, grabbed the choc-chip ice cream (which he'd argued was an essential on the grounds that if Gibbs was adding coffee to their 'essential purchases' list then he was adding chocolate ice cream) and slammed the door shut again before snatching up the coffee and clutching it like it was some sort of talisman.

"Relax, Tony, you're safe for now," Gibbs assured with a chuckle. Once again, Tony assessed him for a few moments before he turned away, got a bowl and spoon and started serving himself a portion of the ice cream. Gibbs carefully moved until he was directly behind Tony and said into his ear, "That's not really the best thing to be eating at this time of night."

Tony didn't jump at Gibbs' nearness, which meant either Gibbs was getting predictable, sloppy, or Tony was getting better at hiding his reactions. None of these were good options in Gibbs' book.

"I didn't get dessert earlier, so I figured I'd get it now," Tony defended. He offered the tub to Gibbs, "You want some?"

"No thanks. I don't need that kinda sugar rush so close to bedtime. I don't think you do, either.

Tony turned disbelieving eyes on Gibbs, "Says Mr 'Caffeine-intake-off-the-charts', the very same man who just gave me a mug full of caffeine and sugar!"

"Hey, I can take the coffee back again," Gibbs warned.

"You wouldn't drink it now it's been adulterated with sugar," Tony returned.

"No, but I could dump it own the sink."

"You'd never waste precious coffee like that," Tony said, not intimidated by Gibbs' threat.

Gibbs had to concede that Tony had him there. "Fine, but don't come crying to me when you're all hopped up on sugar and can't sleep," he said, giving in with ill grace. Then he gave Tony a clip round the ear as the other man stuck his tongue out. "What are you, five? You won the argument, DiNozzo, don't push it," he growled with mock-severity.

"Yes, boss," Tony quickly responded, though he was still smiling.

Gibbs shook his head. "Get your ice cream eaten and start your notes," he said, before topping up his coffee and heading out to the dining room and settling at the table.

Tony joined him ten minutes later, sitting in the chair opposite. They typed in companionable silence until Gibbs finished his notes and moved into the living room. He eyed the old magazines on the coffee table, but nothing was remotely interesting, so he took a quick trip upstairs to his room and grabbed his book on boat building. Heading back down, he took the chair by the window and started reading.

It was maybe twenty minutes before Tony entered the room. He fetched the TV remote and waved it at Gibbs, "You mind?" he asked.

"Nah, go ahead," Gibbs replied.

Tony settled onto the couch and started browsing the channels. After a few minutes, Gibbs started to get annoyed and lifted his head in preparation of telling Tony off, only to be met with an unrepentant smirk, Tony plainly having been doing it solely to get a rise out of Gibbs. 'He must have a death wish,' Gibbs thought to himself in amusement. He restrained himself to a pointed, "You done?" emphasising it so that, although it sounded like a question, it really wasn't.

Tony tipped his head in a nod and turned back to the screen, surprising Gibbs by switching to a news station. He listened to the headlines, but nothing grabbed his interest, apparently, as he soon switched channels until he found a football game, then he settled in to watch that. Gibbs was half expecting to have to tell Tony off again, anticipating him getting caught up in the game and yelling at the screen, but again he was surprised when Tony stayed quiet throughout. He glanced up occasionally to check whether Tony had actually fallen asleep, but he was wide awake. This was a side that not many people believed Tony possessed, and Gibbs was pleased to be one of the people that Tony was relaxed enough around to let his guard down a bit.

By the time one a.m. rolled round, even though both men were night owls used to staying up late, they decided to head for bed. It had been a long day with them finishing up the last investigation and then having to arrange everything for the op, not to mention the time at the club.

"You mind if I grab a quick shower first?" Gibbs asked.

"Go ahead, Gibbs, I can use the downstairs bathroom for brushing my teeth and such."

They headed up the stairs, then Gibbs broke right for the bathroom and Tony headed down to his room for his toiletries. "Night, boss," he called.

"Night, Tony," came the response, muffled by the closed door.

Tony had finished his ablutions by the time Gibbs got out of the shower, so Gibbs quickly checked that all the lights were out and then climbed into bed, dropping off to sleep instantly in the way that a lot of soldiers could.

*~*

The next morning started at 7am, neither man needing a lot of sleep and both used to early starts. They were also both used to going for a morning run, so they headed out together.

They were back in the house by eight and took turns with the shower, Gibbs claiming first go. Tony took the time to get the coffee going and it was just ready to pour by the time Gibbs came back down to the kitchen.

Gibbs savoured his first cup of coffee while Tony took his own shower, then, when the younger man reappeared they set about making breakfast. Gibbs went for toast once again, while Tony grabbed his box of cereal. Gibbs leaned across and helped himself to a piece before Tony added the milk. He grimaced. "How can you eat that stuff? It's just overly sugary dust."

"It's cereal, boss, it's good for me. Says so on the box," and he waved said box in Gibbs' direction.

"Uh huh, and they wouldn't lie to make people buy their product?" he said sarcastically.

"Well, it's not done me any harm yet," Tony asserted, popping a spoonful into his mouth and chewing defiantly. Gibbs snorted and returned to his toast. "What's the plan for today, boss?"

Now that they'd used their undercover personas, they couldn't return to the office, or their homes, so Gibbs said, "I thought we'd take a look round the neighbourhood, act like the newbies we're supposed to be and make sure we're seen around together."

Both men knew some of the area already. Yes, it was a little out of their usual routes, but it was close enough to the naval yard that they'd had cases in the area and it also paid to know a bit about the area surrounding a safe house they might need to bolt to. Still, it couldn't hurt their undercover aliases to be seen mapping out their new neighbourhood.

They cleaned up the breakfast detritus and then headed out for a leisurely walk round. The house was located quite near to a small shopping area. They could get most of the things they needed from the store they'd used yesterday and they wouldn't need the launderette, because the house was designed to be as self contained as possible and had its own washing machine.

They were both pleased to find a small bookshop though, spending a bit of time and money in there. They'd both packed a few bits and pieces, but they didn't know how long the op would take and also, as Gibbs pointed out, "It'd look a bit suspicious if we didn't buy anything while we're out and about." Tony ended up carrying the bag of books and magazines, but he let it go without comment, which surprised Gibbs.

He wasn't able to stay silent when Gibbs refused to get anything from the small ice-cream emporium, however. "C'mon, Gibbs, just one ice-cream? Look, they have coffee flavour," he said, pointing at the menu and giving Gibbs an imploring look.

"It's not even ten in the morning, Tony. I don't care if it's coffee flavoured, I'm not buying ice-cream at this time of day. And don't pout at me like that, it's not going to work!" Decision made, he headed off down the street again, giving Tony no choice but to trail after him.

Gibbs had no compunction about heading into the coffee shop they came across, though, and he gave Tony a look when the younger man muttered under his breath; something about Gibbs being a mean bastard. Gibbs felt that Tony more than got his revenge for the perceived slight, however, with his choice of coffee. Gibbs went for his usual: Extra strength, black, but Tony picked the most horrendous looking frothy mocha, hazelnut affair. Gibbs nearly refused to pay for it when he saw that the chocolate dusting on the top was done in the shape of a heart. He also got them a danish pastry each.

They sat at a table with a view of the street and watched people go by. Gibbs eyed Tony's drink again and said, "You're not really going to drink that are you?" Tony's response was to take a big swallow of the stuff and then grin at Gibbs from beneath a frothy moustache. Gibbs chuckled and shook his head before turning his attention to the danish in front of him.

Once they'd finished in the coffee shop, they ambled around for a while longer. They pretended to make note of useful shops for the newly arrived, Tony pointing to the pharmacy across the road and both men doing a bit of window shopping in some of the clothes stores.

Gibbs was ready to call it quits and head back for lunch when Tony's face lit up. He'd spotted the movie rental shop and was staring at Gibbs beseechingly. "Stop looking at me like that, Tony, there's no point going in there when the house doesn't have a DVD player."

"My laptop can play DVDs. Please, boss?"

"You brought your laptop, but no DVDs?" Gibbs queried.

"No, I packed a couple of movies too, but you can never have too many and you might see something you like," Tony wheedled.

Gibbs tried to convince himself that Tony wasn't attractive like that, but he found himself giving in quickly anyway. "Fine. I guess it can't hurt our covers to get ourselves signed up under our aliases," he said, not sure he'd convinced Tony, let alone himself. Tony just smiled and bounded through the door to start eying the selection.

Gibbs shook his head and made for the counter to fill out the registration form, leaving Tony to pick what he wanted. He really wasn't a big tv watcher, so he didn't have anything he particularly wanted to see himself. He didn't even pay attention to what Tony picked, just handed the bag over to add to the other man's collection.

There was an entrance to the local park a little way beyond the rental store, so they took a turn round the park and decided to run there next time, rather than round the streets as they had that morning.

They had to walk past the coffee shop again on their way home, so Gibbs decided they'd have lunch there. When they got to the counter, Gibbs offered Tony a deal: "If you pick a sensible coffee, you can have an ice-cream."

The serving girl gave Tony a sympathetic look, probably seeing Gibbs as overbearing and having some sort of daddy complex. Tony just rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, boss," in a slightly sarcastic tone and with a grin at the woman to let her know it was all just teasing. As she smiled in answer, Gibbs envied Tony's innate ability to get on with just about everyone.

Tony did as he was told though, and the two men sat at the same table they'd used that morning; Gibbs with another black coffee and a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich, Tony with chicken salad and a plain old latte.

The meal didn't take long and they were soon on their way to the ice-cream shop. Once there, Tony took ages trying to pick which flavour he wanted. In the end, Gibbs growled, "Pick one, or I'll pick for you." It prompted Tony to select cookies and cream. Gibbs, unsurprisingly, went for coffee.

As they strolled along the street, Tony said, "You know there's probably no caffeine in that, right?"

"I don't just like coffee for the caffeine, Tony," Gibbs protested. He'd hesitated momentarily before saying 'Tony'. He was struggling a little not to fall into their usual banter while not actively undercover. It was so natural to say 'DiNozzo' when he was pretending to be irritated. When they were at the club, actively undercover, it wouldn't be a problem, and not only because Tony was unlikely to be bantering with him, but because he was a professional and could keep his mind on the job. But here, on the street, it wasn't really work and there were none of their potential contacts, so the temptation was strong to just relax and fall into the usual patterns.

It wasn't so hard for Tony, Gibbs mused. It was second nature for him to call Gibbs 'boss', but that was close enough to master that Tony could get away with using it as the 'publicly acceptable' form of deference in the unlikely event that anyone from the club ran into them. Using 'DiNozzo' would raise awkward questions though and Gibbs made a firm note to do better.

*~*

They got home a little after two, with the rest of the day stretched out ahead of them, Gibbs having planned a 9 o'clock arrival at the club.

They both did a little paperwork, but there was only so much they could do on laptops. So much of their work still required the endless forms that seemed to make governments happy and it wasn't wise to take any potentially exposing documents into an undercover situation, no matter how unlikely it was that any of their contacts or suspects would be in the house. The laptops were encrypted, so they were safe unless the bad guys had an Abby or McGee on their side.

Giving up on the paperwork, Gibbs settled down with the newspaper he'd bought and Tony linked his laptop to the tv, but then got side tracked by some old western that was showing on cable and watched that instead. Gibbs paid enough attention to recognise John Wayne, but quickly turned back to his paper.

He finished the paper, did the crossword and then returned to the book he'd brought with him. Tony was quite content with John Wayne and company. A couple of hours later, Gibbs was surprised to find Tony still watching the same thing. "Just how long is this film, Tony?"

Tony threw him a grin and said, "It's a John Wayne double bill, Gibbs. You just didn't pay attention to the end credits of the first film and the opening ones of this."

"Oh, that explains it," Gibbs said. He checked his watch and decided he was bored enough to cook dinner. "I'm just heading to the store for dinner supplies, won't be long," he announced as he stood and headed for the doorway.

"You're going to cook?" Tony questioned with a slightly disbelieving tone.

"Yes I'm going to cook. Contrary to popular belief, I don't live on caffeine alone."

"Okay. You want a hand?"

"I've lived alone for quite a few years of my life, DiNozzo. I think I can handle rustling something up for us," Gibbs said with an exasperated growl.

Tony just grinned though. "Oh, I get it: You're bored. Well that's fine; I can always eat."

Gibbs stared at him for a second, wondering why he couldn't seem to cow Tony with the glare he sent him when it would've had McGee ready to pass out. Then he shook his head and gave in. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Enjoy your film."

He snagged his jacket from the coat hook by the front door and checked that his wallet was in the pocket, then he walked to the store, brainstorming meal ideas as he went.

By the time he arrived, Gibbs had decided on spaghetti bolognaise. He bought pasta, some fresh mince and a jar of sauce as that was quicker than making his own sauce, then he walked back to the house and headed for the kitchen.

He wondered how long it would take Tony to become curious and stopped the clock on two minutes and nine seconds when he heard, "You trying to out-Italian me?"

"Don't know. Does it count as Italian if it comes from a jar?" Gibbs asked as he turned and waved said item in Tony's direction. He chuckled when Tony drew back as if burnt.

"It most certainly does not!" Tony exclaimed in mock-horror, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "Where are the fresh tomatoes, the herbs, the garlic?"

"Hey, who's making this, me or you?" Gibbs growled.

Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll just…" he pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

"Great idea," Gibbs said, though he had to smile at the unrepentant grin Tony shot him before he headed back into the living room.

Gibbs busied himself with the mince, breaking it up and partially cooking it, before adding the sauce, giving it a good mix and putting it in the oven. It needed half an hour to cook, so Gibbs went back to the living room and read a bit more of his book.

30 minutes later, he headed back into the kitchen and put the spaghetti on to boil and turned the oven down so that it was just keeping the sauce warm. He heard Tony moving about in the dining room and presumed he was getting place mats out of the sideboard. A minute or so later, the man arrived in the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a jug of chilled water that he must have put in while Gibbs was shopping. Tony also collected two glasses and the required cutlery and took it all back into the dining room.

Gibbs followed a few minutes later with two plates of spaghetti bolognaise and they both busied themselves for a few moments with adding salt and pepper and pouring water.

"Smells great, boss," Tony said with an appreciative inhale. He then set about devouring it.

Gibbs snorted in amusement. "I see the lack of Italian authenticity isn't actually stopping you from eating it."

"You know me, boss, I'll eat anything."

"Well thank you for that ringing endorsement, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. He tried to sound affronted, but the grin Tony shot him said he'd failed. Dammit, he needed to work harder; Tony was seeing through too much of his snapping lately.

They finished their meal and Tony washed up, then they got ready for the evening. Gibbs wore much the same outfit as the previous night, though he changed the shirt to a pale blue, faintly checked one. Tony appeared in the exact same outfit and it took Gibbs breath away once more. Tony, though, looked a little sheepish. "What's up, Tony?"

"It's just…this is the only outfit I've got for this situation, but I've just been thinking that that could give the wrong impression, like you're not as wealthy as the others and can't afford to buy me different clothes." He shifted slightly and the glitter in his hair shimmered.

"Trust me, Tony, the way you look in that outfit, no one's going to think I only let you wear that because I can't afford anything else. They're going to think that I make you wear it because it has maximum impact. No one will get bored of looking at you in that." It was perhaps more than he wanted to give away, but Gibbs could see that Tony really needed the reassurance.

It was the right choice. Tony beamed at him and headed for the front door, collecting his lead on the way. Gibbs shook his head at the lightning mood change and followed Tony to the car. The initial procedure was the same as the night before, Tony offering Gibbs the lead to attach and then them passing the bouncer.

Once inside, however, Gibbs led Tony to the bar. While he waited his turn, he casually scanned the other people around him and knew that Tony, stood a step behind with his eyes down and his hands clasped in front of him, was doing the same. He ordered a scotch and soda, wanting to have a drink in order to fit in, but not wanting anything that would impair him quickly.

They moved to the seating area and took a table next to the railings along the edge of the dance floor, near to where they'd sat the night before. Gibbs sat so that his right side was to the dance floor, giving himself a view of the entrance, the bar and the curtained area. Tony settled between the railings and Gibbs' leg, leaning into him and scanning the dance floor surreptitiously. Gibbs automatically let the lead dangle over his thigh and put his now free hand against the base of Tony's skull, his little finger touching the collar and the rest of his fingers working into the short hair. He thought he felt Tony shiver, but could have just been projecting and didn't want to assume anything.

After a few minutes, Gibbs took a sip of his drink. He was about to set it back on the table, when he changed his mind and held it out to Tony. Tony allowed Gibbs to tip the glass against his lips, taking a small swallow. Then he grinned up at Gibbs and said, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Master?"

"Well, it could be fun," Gibbs replied with a smile.

"It could indeed, that's a very pretty boy you have there," said a voice from behind them. Tony carefully didn't react, though Gibbs felt him tense a little against his leg, squeezing his ankle in the pre-arranged signal that this was one of the men Tony had picked out as worthy of talking to tonight, either because he was a regular, or because of his sub.

Gibbs looked at the man who had spoken. He was a big man, taller than Tony at at least 6'4", but also stockily built. He was fairly nondescript other than his size, average features, dark eyes, black hair- what was left of it, though Gibbs suspected he dyed it as the lines around his eyes put him at 55 at least. Tony could have told him whom the suit was made by, but even Gibbs could tell it was expensive; a black pin stripe. His concession to the more casual style at the club was no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. The hand he held out to Gibbs dwarfed his own.

"Albert Bernstein," he introduced.

"Jethro Thompson, and you haven't done too badly yourself," Gibbs responded as he shook the man's hand and gestured to the empty seat opposite him.

Bernstein sat and Gibbs could immediately see what Tony had meant about the unwilling subs. Where Tony rested his weight against Gibbs leg, comfortable in his role (or doing a bang up job of appearing so), the kid opposite- and he really was a kid, 25 at the most- sat stiffly next to Bernstein, close, but not touching him. He'd obviously been trained enough to not react with open defiance, but it was certainly there if you looked. What really cemented the fact that this was a useful man to talk to was the fact that his sub was of the right ethnicity. His olive skin and dark eyes and hair marking him out as Middle Eastern. It would surely be too coincidental for Bernstein to have gotten his boy from someone other than Nemec.

The two men exchanged small talk for the first few minutes, subtly assessing each other. Bernstein reminded Gibbs of a shark: all shiny white teeth and a grin that didn't reach his cold eyes. It was plain that Gibbs wasn't who Bernstein was interested in. The way he kept eyeing Tony would have concerned Gibbs if his own feelings for the younger man were purely professional, as it was, his possessive button was being well and truly pushed.

He'd returned his hand to the back of Tony's neck after shaking with Bernstein, but now, rather than just resting there, he was gripping lightly. Tony, in a response to Gibbs' hold, or his own discomfort with the looks, had shifted slightly so that he could wrap his arm around Gibbs' lower leg and lean more fully against him. Gibbs wanted to crow in triumph but called himself an idiot and reminded himself that now was not the time and to get his mind back on track instead.

Gibbs had already decided that Bernstein was a competitive man, but the fact that he saw Gibbs' hold on Tony and felt the need to replicate it with his own sub spoke volumes to Gibbs. Here was a man who saw Tony and his own sub as objects to be displayed and laid claim to and he was almost challenging Gibbs to try and take his sub away, probably because he felt he would win and that would give him the right to take Tony as the prize. Gibbs forcefully reminded himself that this was their best lead and that decking the man wouldn't be good for the investigation. He felt sorry for the boy too, where he was uncomfortable before, the contact- and Gibbs had no doubt that Bernstein's grip was much harsher than his own- had made him go rigid with fear, or disgust, or pain, or maybe a combination of the three.

Gibbs decided to move the conversation to more fruitful ground and try to get the information he wanted as quickly as he could so they could excuse themselves. To that end he asked, "So, what is it you do, Mr Bernstein?"

"Albert, please," he said. "I own a chain of jewellery stores, just within the state for the moment, but I'm hoping to buy my first store over the state lines soon. Do you live in the area? I have a shop in town. You must stop by sometime and buy something for your exquisite boy. If you come in on a Friday, I'll be there to assist you." He fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it over.

Gibbs took it, thinking, 'over my dead body'. What he said was: "Thank you, Albert, I'll do that sometime."

Bernstein beamed his dead smile and looked, again, at Tony. Gibbs hoped Tony didn't look up enough for Bernstein to see his eyes, with their captivating eyeliner, or he'd probably have to fend the man off. Luckily Bernstein looked to Gibbs again and said, "And you, Mr Thompson?"

"Jethro. I do a little of this, a little of that, you could say I supply things. We've only just moved from Baltimore this week, so I've not got much lined up yet until I can make some contacts." He leant forwards slightly, glancing around, appealing to Bernstein's ego by making him believe he was about to be let in on some secretive information. "In fact, one of the things I supplied back in Baltimore was submissives. People don't always have the time, patience or skill to train a new sub to the standards they want, so I did it for them. I had a supplier who put me in touch with a few likely candidates for training every few months and I'd get them to the right level and then pass them on to the buyers I'd found. I'm hoping to get back into that here, but I just need to find a few contacts. This is the right place, hopefully."

Normally Gibbs wouldn't have been quite so plain in revealing that he was looking for someone to supply him with, essentially, slaves, but he was confident with what he'd seen of the man opposite him that it was the right way to go. And sure enough, his eyes lit up and focused on Tony.

"Do you mean to tell me that this delectable creature is for sale? How much?" Bernstein said with unseemly eagerness. Gibbs felt Tony shudder slightly and squeezed his neck a little tighter in answer.

"Sorry, but Tony's mine. I don't intend to sell him. He was part of the payment for a delivery I supplied his father and I've grown quite attached to him. I'll certainly keep you in mind once I've got someone suitable trained up." Gibbs carefully modulated his tone to imply that, while he didn't _intend_ to sell Tony, if the price was right… He didn't want to lose the possible contact by shutting him down. It would be easy for Bernstein to lose interest if he knew there was no way he'd get hold of Tony and they needed this man, hoping he was the one to get them the necessary introductions.

Bernstein gave him a disappointed look, but had a gleam in his eye that said he'd heard Gibbs' own greed peeping through. "Hmmm, that's a terrible shame. Maybe you'll reconsider if I get you some good contacts?"

Oh, this was just too good to be true. The man was playing right into Gibbs' trap. "Maybe," he drawled, "but they'd have to be damn good."

"Leave it with me, Jethro. I'm sure you'll be pleased. I'm not here tomorrow, but if you meet me on Wednesday, I should be able to introduce you to someone who fits the bill."

"Wednesday sounds good. I look forward to meeting them."

"Excellent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I see an old friend I need to speak with." He stood and offered his giant hand to Gibbs again.

"Of course," Gibbs replied as he shook.

Bernstein nodded and gave him the shark grin then headed off, dragging his unhappy slave in his wake. Gibbs looked down and asked, "You okay?"

Tony glanced up. "I feel like I need a shower," he grinned slightly.

Gibbs smiled himself, "Yeah, I bet you do. Here," he offered his nearly empty scotch to Tony, who finished it in one gulp. "Better?"

"A bit, yeah, thanks, Master."

They stayed for another hour and a half, but none of the other people Gibbs spoke to turned out to be useful.

*~*

Their evening followed a similar pattern to the one before, with Gibbs getting the coffee and toast going so they could fortify themselves before writing up their notes. Where it differed was that Tony made no move for the ice cream, instead accepting a plate of toast from Gibbs with a quiet 'thank you'. Gibbs just hoped Tony wouldn't notice how many times he had made food or drink for him over the last day and start to question the seemingly out of character caring.

Not that Tony seemed to be noticing much. He'd been subdued on the drive home and now wasn't inhaling his food; instead he picked up a slice and started using the corner to tap a staccato beat against the rim of the plate. Gibbs frowned. "What's up?" he asked.

"Gibbs?" Tony questioned with a frown of his own.

"You've been quiet since we left the club and you're playing with your food. That's not the DiNozzo I know, so what's up?"

"Nothing, boss. I'm fine," Tony protested.

"Uh huh. Is it Bernstein?"

Tony sighed, but obviously realised that Gibbs wouldn't let it go, so he said, "Kinda."

"I know he was a creep, Tony, but you have to ignore what he said about you."

"It's not that, Gibbs. I'm used to that sort of thing. I know what I look like, it's why I was hired for the vice squad in the first place, so I could go undercover."

"I'm sure that your previous record and recommendation from your old captain had something to do with it too, DiNozzo."

"Maybe, but my captain said he hired me because I was pretty and the rest of the squad would remind me about it too. That's why I only stuck it for two years."

Gibbs scowled. That probably explained at least some of Tony's need for approval where his work was concerned. He would've been tempted to hunt down Tony's old captain and deck him, if it hadn't indirectly led to Tony being on his team. Deciding to steer clear of this potentially messy topic, Gibbs went back to his original point. "So, if it wasn't that, what was it?"

"It was that poor kid. He was terrified, Gibbs, and I hated that I was so close and couldn't do a thing to help him, had to let that creep take him away again." Tony was becoming more and more agitated. He was leaning against the worktop near the dining room door and suddenly banged his uneaten plateful of toast down behind him with a wordless exclamation, before stalking the short distance to the fridge and leaning his hands on the worktop there, back to Gibbs. "That's another reason why I quit vice. Murder is equally as tragic, but at least the dead people aren't suffering anymore." He hung his head and sighed.

It was easy to forget that Tony felt things so deeply with the carefree attitude he presented. Gibbs cursed himself; Kate or McGee might be fooled, but he knew better than that. He moved to stand next to Tony and laid his hand on his back, giving a brief rub. "I know it was hard to let the kid leave with Bernstein, but we couldn't help him. You know that. And who knows, maybe when we get the head creep, we'll take the lower echelons out too and be able to help the kid and others like him."

Tony turned to face Gibbs and before he could really think about it, he let the hand on Tony's shoulder blade slide round so he could cup the side of Tony's neck gently. Tony's breath stuttered and his pupils dilated as he stared into Gibbs' eyes. Gibbs' wasn't unaffected himself and stared back for a few seconds before shaking himself back to his senses. "Not now, Tony," he said regretfully. "Not in the middle of a potentially dangerous op." Still, he couldn't stop himself from rubbing his thumb along Tony's jaw line before dropping his hand and stepping back.

Tony stayed where he was for a second more before swallowing, taking a deep breath and then taking his own step back. "Sorry, boss," he said, sounding shaky.

"Don't worry about it, emotions were high. Why don't you head up for a shower and clear your mind? We'll do notes afterwards." He didn't add that he needed that alone time to clear his own head just as much.

"Sure, boss," Tony said and headed upstairs a moment later.

Gibbs listened to the sounds of movement overhead as his mind examined the fact that Tony apparently returned at least some of Gibbs' feelings. The water turned on and Gibbs shook himself. "That meant you too, Gibbs. Mind on the job," he berated himself, using the sound of his voice to break the silence and get himself moving. He ate his own toast, downed the rest of his coffee and poured a second cup, then settled at the dining table and powered up his laptop. He checked the time- nearly midnight- and decided to leave calling Kate for background on Bernstein until tomorrow morning. It wasn't as if he'd need the information tomorrow, what with Bernstein not being at the club until the following day.

Not long after, Tony reappeared. He switched his laptop on and then headed into the kitchen, coming back with a cup of coffee and the plate of now-cold toast. Gibbs smirked, "Feeling better then?"

Tony smiled back and settled in to type his notes with one hand and eat toast with the other. Gibbs wondered what the significance was that Tony had sat in the chair next to his, rather than opposite like yesterday.

Once again Gibbs had had a head start with the notes and was finished first. He headed into the front room and settled on the left side of the sofa with a crossword book. He wondered if it was his imagination that Tony's typing seemed to get quicker once he left the room. He decided it was safest to put it down to Tony having finished his toast and having both hands free.

When Tony came into the room a few moments later, he settled on the other side of the settee. Gibbs expected him to snag the remote and start channel hopping, but instead Tony eyed him for a few seconds before hesitantly shifting further along the cushion until he was next to Gibbs. He carefully leant his weight against Gibbs' right side. "Tony," Gibbs said in a tone that couldn't decide between warning and invitation.

"Please, just this. I need-" he cut himself off, but Gibbs could fill in the blanks. He needed to feel a warm human connection to take his mind off the young man they'd had to leave behind, who was probably even now enduring some unpleasantness at Bernstein's slimy hands. Gibbs could give Tony that without either of them compromising their focus on the op.

"Yeah, okay," he said, feeling Tony's body relax against his instantly. "But you'll have to fill this in, 'cause you're leaning on my writing side," he added, giving the crossword book a quick shake.

Tony retrieved the pen from the hand he was leaning against, sighing when Gibbs moved his arm from between them and used it to pull Tony a bit closer. He left it around Tony's shoulders and Tony rested his head on Gibbs' shoulder. "Thanks, Gibbs," he murmured.

"'S okay," he murmured back. "Now, three down is 'echidna'," he said and Tony obediently filled in the blanks.

They wiled away nearly an hour like that until Gibbs felt Tony's body get heavier against his own and the pen Tony held against the page suddenly drew an uneven line through several clues as Tony's hand relaxed. He couldn't help but savour the feeling of trust that meant Tony could let his guard down so much with him. But after a few minutes he had to move. Tony may be slender, but he was heavy and now he was dead weight against Gibbs, his arm was going numb. Regretfully he woke Tony with a soft call of his name.

Tony woke instantly and sat up, blinking a little sleepily. "Sorry, boss," he said.

"Not a problem, but I think it'd be more comfortable in bed." Realising how that sounded when Tony smirked at him, he qualified, "Your own bed."

Tony put on a disappointed face, but Gibbs knew that while some of that was genuine, Tony was as much a professional as he was and knew that it wasn't sensible to get personal while undercover.

"Night, boss," Tony said as he headed off.

"Night, Tony," he answered. Gibbs headed into the kitchen and washed the few bits they'd used for their snack, then headed upstairs. The bathroom was already free, as Tony apparently hadn't had much more to do after his recent shower. Gibbs quickly went through his nightly routine and settled into his bed, dropping to sleep almost instantly, thoughts of Tony flitting through his mind and into his dreams.

*~*

Tony woke with a smile on his face. Sure, he was still upset about being unable to help the young man at the club, but a good night’s sleep had allowed him to distance himself from the emotions and, hopefully, avoid another outburst. That good night’s sleep was all down to Gibbs. Tony was still reeling from the idea that Gibbs returned at least some of his feelings if the lust-filled look he turned on Tony in the kitchen was any indication. And then he'd offered that quiet comfort on the couch. Okay, so Tony had initiated that, but Gibbs was more than capable of telling Tony where to go if he hadn't been interested.

The good mood stayed with him through his morning ablutions and as he headed downstairs, but as he reached the bottom step, an edge of apprehension crept in. He was as much the professional as Gibbs and fully agreed that the middle of a case was not the time… but Gibbs hadn't given any indication about when that time might be. What if it was never? What if he decided that rule twelve was too important? What if the closeness they'd shared last night was simply Gibbs wanting to make sure Tony didn't lose it? But no, it couldn't be that. Tony had a hard time picturing Gibbs holding Probie or Kate like that, even if they were distressed (not that Kate would accept such comfort), Abby maybe, but not the other two. That had to mean something, right?

Tony was so lost in his fretting, chasing his metaphorical tail round and round the subject, that he failed completely to notice Gibbs appear in the kitchen doorway, so jumped and spun round when the older man said, "You lost, DiNozzo?"

"Um, morning, boss," Tony stammered. He hated it when Gibbs crept up on him. Especially when it was his own fault for not paying attention. He belatedly remembered Gibbs' question and frowned slightly, "Lost?"

"Yeah. Heard you come downstairs nearly five minutes ago and assumed you'd forgotten the way when you didn't appear in any of the rooms."

"Oh. No, I was just thinking."

"Uh huh. Well, coffee's nearly ready." With that, Gibbs turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Tony stared after him for a moment, then shook himself and demanded, 'Get a grip, DiNozzo. Stop acting like a teenage girl and suck it up. If he wants you, he'll let you know and if he doesn't, well, he'll let you know that too.' That was the one thing Tony was certain of: If Gibbs wasn't interested in taking things any further, he would put Tony straight quickly and bluntly. He sucked in a deep breath, held it and then blew it out slowly, settling his face into his usual playful mask, knowing that Gibbs would probably see through it anyway.

He headed into the kitchen and promptly had a mug of steaming coffee handed to him, already fixed to his taste. He looked up as he thanked Gibbs and was met with a small smile. Tony smiled back as he felt a big knot loosen somewhere inside. That smile was rather meagre by anyone else's standards, but it was a big statement where Gibbs, the man of many frowns, was concerned. Plus, now Tony thought about it, this was, what, the fourth cup of coffee Gibbs had given him? That was unheard of. _And_ he'd been making food for Tony too. That was not the sign of someone who wanted nothing to do with him. His smile grew into a grin, even when Gibbs barked, 'What?' at him.

"Nothing," he said and tried to wipe the grin off before Gibbs decided to give him a head slap.

"Uh huh," Gibbs plainly didn't buy it, but obviously decided to let it go, perhaps happy to see Tony's playfulness back after last night. Instead, he said, "You ready for a run?" Tony drained his coffee and nodded.

They ran a couple of laps round the park they'd investigated the day before, then finished with an abbreviated version of the road route they'd followed the previous morning. Tony eyed the sky as they ran. It was a grim start, with clouds massing. He reckoned there'd be rain before midday. They'd have to find something to occupy them indoors somewhere. Maybe he could convince Gibbs to visit the cinema and catch a movie.

About forty five minutes later, they were once again back at the house, doing a few warm down stretches before Gibbs pressed his thumb to the finger print reader and led Tony inside. He headed into the living room and picked up his phone, gesturing between Tony and the stairs with it, while saying, "I'm going to update Kate and McGee, you can take the shower first."

"Okay, boss," Tony responded. He took a lightning fast shower, wanting to get back downstairs before Gibbs finished on the phone. Now that he'd caught on to how Gibbs kept feeding him, he was, well, he wasn't going to admit to shyness, even to himself. It was nice, but he wanted to give something back, make sure Gibbs realised it wasn't a one-way thing. Whatever 'thing' meant.

Tony poked his head round the door to the living room, but Gibbs wasn't there. Feeling a little worried, he moved to the kitchen. Sure enough, Gibbs was in there. He was relieved to find his boss still on the phone though and had done no more than get the coffee started. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Tony's rapid reappearance, but didn't interrupt his conversation.

"…got in on schedule?…Good, now we just have to hope that they'll be keen to get back on the scene after several months on ship and that they have cargo to unload to their contact. Either way, from now on we'll be using the wires, so make sure you've got the surveillance van set up before we get there at nine." Gibbs gave a small chuckle then, before saying, "No you cannot use any of it to blackmail DiNozzo, Kate. Now, get me everything on Bernstein and call me back ASAP." As per usual, he hung up without bothering to say goodbye.

During Gibbs conversation, Tony had gathered everything he needed for bacon and eggs and was happily frying away by the time Gibbs hung up. The coffee was also ready, so Gibbs pulled down two mugs, filled them and added milk and sugar to Tony's, setting it next to the hob. "Thanks, boss, and thanks for sticking up for me with Kate," Tony said, taking a sip of the coffee before returning to flipping the bacon.

"I only told her she couldn't use it as blackmail material because I want it for the same reason, Tony," Gibbs deadpanned.

Tony pouted at him then retorted with, "Being mean to the man making you bacon and eggs is not the sign of a sane mind, Gibbs."

Gibbs smirked and got plates and cutlery ready. "True enough. Consider yourself safe for the duration of breakfast," he replied.

"Gee, you're all heart, boss. Guess I'll just have to eat slowly."

"I don't think you can eat slowly, DiNozzo. I've seen you eat, remember."

Tony just resorted to pouting some more as he dished out the food and they moved to the dining room. They ate in companionable silence, then Gibbs gathered the plates and went to wash up, while Tony headed into the living room.

*~*

Gibbs looked out of the window while he washed and dried. The clouds had been massing all morning, but he still scowled when the first few heavy drops of rain hit the windowpane. They had another day of limbo stretching ahead of them and the rain looked set to stay, settling into a steady downpour. He didn't really mind getting rained on, but he also didn't see the point in going outside for the sake of it. Which meant they'd have to find something to do indoors somewhere. If he got bored with his magazines and crosswords, Gibbs could always start making notes for the annual performance reviews that were on the way- not that he saw the point of them, if someone did something good or bad, Gibbs made sure to tell them straight away and didn't get the point of saving it all up until months later. But, despite what he allowed their teammates to think, Tony was not a man to sit idly watching DVDs all day and a bored Tony was something to avoid at any cost, so Gibbs had hoped to get out of the house for some of the day.

Dishes done, he headed upstairs for his own shower and entered the living room fifteen minutes later feeling refreshed. Tony looked up as he appeared and said, "Hey, boss, can we go to the movies later?"

"DiNozzo, if you want to watch a movie, watch one of those DVDs you were so desperate to rent, before we have to return them."

Tony pouted, "But we haven't got any popcorn here."

Gibbs gave him a slap. "Stop pouting. And we've got ice cream, which again, you were desperate to get. You can eat that."

The matter settled in Gibbs' mind, he turned away and retrieved his woodworking magazine from the coffee table and settled in the chair by the window. It wasn't a magazine he bought religiously each month, but if it had something relevant to boat building, or he knew he was going on this type of case, it was definitely worth the cover price.

By happy coincidence, this month's issue had something he could apply to his boat. He read that article first, making mental notes, then read through the rest, getting particularly interested in an article about decorative inlay work.

Tony had settled to watch one of his movies without any more comment, minus the ice cream. Gibbs didn't know what he was watching, but it seemed to involve a lot of explosions and gunfire and, when Gibbs glanced up a few times, he thought he recognised Bruce Willis in an increasingly dirty white vest.

Gibbs looked up again when he heard the credits rolling nearly two hours later. Tony stood, put the disc back in its case and unhooked his laptop from the television, before he disappeared into the kitchen and Gibbs caught the sounds and smells of the coffee machine being started. Shortly after that, Tony returned with two mugs of coffee in hand. Gibbs thanked him for his mug and Tony returned to the couch, curling his legs underneath himself and balancing the laptop on his thigh before going online. The house had been updated to allow wireless connection fairly recently, so Tony didn't need to plug the little computer in anywhere.

Companionable silence reigned for another few hours. Gibbs finished his magazine and decided he might as well start the evaluation notes while he had nothing better to put them off with. The tapping of keys, rustling as one of them shifted and the occasional quiet thud as Gibbs returned his coffee mug to the table were the only sounds. Until Tony broke the quiet with a triumphant, "Aha!"

"You want to share, Tony?" Gibbs asked as he looked up from his work.

"There's an indoor firing range not far from here, Gibbs." The puppy dog look told Gibbs that Tony wasn't just stating a fact and wanted to go there, even though he didn't actually ask. The idea was a good one; it would certainly aid their cover stories to have their names on a gun range's list, especially with the back story Tony's alias had. Plus it would keep Tony busy for a while and it never hurt to get more target practice in. Gibbs fondly remembered using Tony's favourite cap and Kate's PDA to aid his agents' aim one memorable visit to the range.

"Okay," he agreed, "get your stuff. We'll get a bite to eat first, then head on over and check the place out."

He was rewarded by a big grin from Tony as the younger man quickly shut down his laptop and bounded out of the room. He shook his head fondly at Tony's exuberance, then shut his own laptop down, not at all upset to be leaving the evals behind.

*~*

It was around a thirty-minute drive to the range and by the time they'd got ready and then stopped for burgers and fries at a roadside diner, it was a little after one in the afternoon when they reached it. They spent about three hours there and Gibbs spent as much of that time watching Tony as he did his own target.

There was something about Tony being competent that made Gibbs' mouth go dry, but it was so often hidden behind the goofball image that he didn't see it nearly as often as he'd like to, so he drank in the sight now. He kept dragging his attention away to his target, firing a few rounds and then would find his eyes sliding back to Tony, watching as he stood relaxed but braced, long legs shoulder width apart, gun held in a steady double-handed grip as he fired and released the trigger smoothly, absorbing the recoil with barely a twitch.

Tony wasn't missing a shot, not even when he moved the target out to the effective limit of the Beretta's range. Gibbs knew Tony had 20/10 eyesight; it was in his file, even if the man himself hadn't bragged about it during a case, but it took more than that to be a good shot. You had to be calm and focused, have steady hands and good hand/eye coordination. And you had to have something that Gibbs had never really been able to define, some _thing_ in your head, in your mind. Watching Tony, Gibbs knew he had it and would've made a great sniper. He should know, after all.

It was all Gibbs could do to stop himself from stepping in close to Tony, chest to the younger man's back, and adjusting Tony's stance. Not because it actually needed adjusting, but because he wanted an excuse to get his hands on Tony. Instead, he once again forced himself to his own practice.

His mind strayed, once again, to the time he'd made Tony and Kate practice with their prized possessions on the target. Gibbs had suspected back then- and today's session was adding fuel to that suspicion- that Tony had put a hole in his cap on purpose. To make Kate feel better about destroying her PDA, because yeah, they fought like kids, but they never truly wanted to dent the other's confidence, or simply to help Tony maintain his image of mild incompetence, Gibbs didn't know, he just knew that it was unlikely that Tony had so significantly improved his aim in such a short time.

He dragged his attention back to his paper target for one last attempt at concentration, before calling it a day.

*~*

By the time Gibbs called things to a halt, three hours after they'd arrived, Tony's throat was dry from all the cordite floating around and his shoulders had the not unpleasant tingling brought on by absorbing all the recoils from his shots. His mind was buzzing too. Not only was being at the firing range quite soothing, but also he had been aware of Gibbs' eyes on him a lot of the time. He had decided that it probably didn't count against the 'not on a case' rule if Tony didn't acknowledge it, so he'd forced himself not to play up to the eyes on him and had kept his own gaze front and centre.

They stopped off at the same roadside diner as earlier- Gibbs needed his caffeine fix and Tony was feeling peckish, so he had a plate of fries. They sat at a table and Tony inhaled his food with his usual enjoyment.

"I don't know how you can eat so much junk and not be spherical," Gibbs said.

Tony grinned at him. "I'm blessed with a great metabolism," he said, popping the last bite into his mouth and chewing happily.

Gibbs grunted, then said, "You have salt--" tailing off and waving a finger at his own top lip.

Tony manfully stopped himself from licking the salt away, feeling it was much safer to simply pick up a serviette and wipe. After all, he was pretending not to have seen Gibbs watching him at the range.

They arrived back at the house not much later and both changed into clothes that didn't smell of gunpowder. Tony was halfway down the stairs when Gibbs appeared from his room. "Coffee?" Tony called.

"You have to _ask_?" Gibbs replied incredulously.

"I guess not," Tony said with a grin. He headed into the kitchen and got the coffee started. Gibbs had gone into the dining room if the noises Tony heard were any indication. He moved to the doorway and leant against the jamb, watching as Gibbs set up his laptop. "Whatcha doin', boss?" he drawled.

"Evals. You can give me a hand."

Tony straightened quickly, hands held out in a warding gesture. "Sorry, boss, the coffee's about ready." He made his exit, ignoring Gibbs' yell to get his ass back in there.

The coffee really was nearly ready, so Tony took out two mugs, adding milk and sugar to his. He waited for the last few drips to squeeze through the filter, then lifted the pot off the machine. He was about to start pouring when he felt heat against his back as Gibbs appeared behind him, trapping him against the counter with his arms, but not quite touching him. "Were you ignoring me, Special Agent DiNozzo? That won't look good on your evaluation."

The tone of voice and the feel of warm breath right against his ear caused Tony to shiver and gasp. He almost lost his hold on the coffee pot, but managed to tighten his hand again, though the pot did bash onto the worktop with a little more force than necessary. Luckily it didn't break.

Tony turned in the tight confines of Gibbs' arms and felt his breath catch as he saw the lust-filled look on Gibbs' face. He thought his own expression probably looked something similar. It was all he could do not to lean in and devour Gibbs' mouth, but if they started something now, he was in no doubt that it would end in sex and, much as it pained him to turn down sex, they'd already decided that now wasn't the time. Instead he forced through gritted teeth, "Case, Jethro."

Tony watched as Gibbs got himself back under control by closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. He used those few seconds to marvel at the effect they had on each other, guessing it was suddenly so strong because they were spending so much time together on the case. Gibbs opened his eyes and Tony could see he was back in control. The man pushed back from the counter and said, "Right, get that coffee and get yourself into the dining room. You aren't getting out of giving me a hand."

"But, boss, I'm not the boss. I shouldn't be doing evals. I'm not really supposed to see what gets written about my teammates."

Gibbs smacked him round the head and said, "You're my senior agent and it's about time you learned how to do them. That's what a senior agent is for- to make my life easier."

With that, he stalked into the dining room. Tony grinned. Things were back to normal. He used the coffee pouring time to finish getting himself under control, assuming Gibbs was doing the same. A thought struck him and he snorted. 'At least we won't have to fake the sexual tension for the op'.

He took the coffee mugs out, put one next to Gibbs on the dining table and attempted to move into the living room. Gibbs had other ideas it seemed. "I wasn't kidding, Tony."

Tony sighed, but pulled a chair round so he could see the laptop screen. For the next few hours, they worked on the evaluations, Tony using his people reading skills to make observations and suggestions that Gibbs might have missed.

Eventually they finished and Tony finally made it into the living room. There were still a few hours before they needed to get ready, so he decided to watch a DVD. He set up his laptop and pressed play. It was _Star Trek: First Contact_ , so Tony hoped that Gibbs, in the chair near the window, was engrossed in his crosswords, or would keep it to himself at any rate. He didn't want Probie getting wind of his closely guarded geek side.

Maybe half way through the film, Tony ordered pizza, and half an hour later the doorbell rang. Gibbs phone rang at the same time, so Tony dealt with the pizza boy, carrying the box into the living room a few minutes later to find it empty of Gibbs.

He moved through to the dining room and found Gibbs setting up his laptop for a video call. Tony set the box on the table next to the computer and helped himself to a slice, taking a bite just as the screen came to life with a view of McGee, Kate and Abby. He knew that Abby was unlikely to have anything to contribute to the Bernstein background check, but the video camera was set up in her lab and there was no way she'd miss saying hi to the two of them.

Sure enough, it was Abby that greeted them both in her usual cheerful fashion.

"Abby, Kate, Probie," Tony greeted in turn; though it was a bit muffled by the bite of pizza he was still working on.

Kate, also in her usual fashion, went straight for the scathing remark. "God, Tony, you're always eating!"

Swallowing, Tony replied with a grin, "You're just jealous that I can eat all this junk food and not get fat, while you have to eat that tofu crap all the time."

Kate was obviously gearing up for a come back, but she turned it into a satisfied smirk when Gibbs smacked Tony round the head with a demand to, "Focus."

"Hey!" Tony exclaimed. "Why do I get smacked when she started it?"

"Because you're here, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied giving him another smack. "Now, are you going to focus, or do we need to see if the third time's the charm?"

Tony sat forward from the sprawl he'd been in and fixed his attention on the screen. "So, what did you find, Kate?" he asked.

"Albert Joshua Bernstein, 57, single. Born in DC, moved to Chicago in his early twenties and came back to DC in his mid thirties. Set up his first jewellers soon after returning to the area and now has four stores, with a fifth in the works." Kate reported.

McGee stepped smoothly into the flow with, "His record's pretty clean, boss. A couple of speeding tickets back in Chicago, but nothing since then. Local PD is aware of him, however. They periodically have him under surveillance as they suspect him of fencing stolen goods and laundering money. He has some contacts who are less than savoury, but the LEOs can't ever catch him in anything big enough to get a warrant."

Kate took over the commentary once again, "He's had a string of younger men living with him since he got back to DC. Not much is known about his current man, only that he's been living with Bernstein for the last six months, is called Hassim and is suspected of being an illegal alien. He certainly sounds like he could have been one of Nemec's imports from his last trip."

Gibbs nodded and said, "Yeah, we had him pegged as likely having got his sub from Nemec. Okay, like I said earlier, Bernstein's not going to be at the club tonight, but we'll go along to observe Nemec and Davies. Who knows, we may get lucky and not need Bernstein to introduce us after all. Anything else?"

The three people on screen shook their heads and it was only a matter of moments before the connection was broken and they were alone again. Tony took the pizza box back into the living room and resumed his film, Gibbs joining him a few moments later and helping himself to the pizza.

The next few hours passed quickly and soon they were once again entering the club, this time with a quick glance at the nondescript grey van parked a little way down the street. They were both wearing their wires this time. Tony had fixed his under the loose end of his collar; he hadn't asked where Gibbs had hidden his.

They collected a drink and moved to what was becoming their usual table. There was no sign of Nemec. It was maybe half an hour later that the navy men finally made their appearance. Tony was surprised to see that Nemec was actually the sub in the relationship, trailing along behind his exec with almost palpable anticipation. Tony guessed it would be difficult to reconcile his sub nature and his higher rank and he probably couldn't wait to get himself back into subspace, where his master could take the reins once again.

Davies was obviously just as eager, as he didn't linger long in the bar area, simply greeting a few people and getting a drink, before vanishing behind the curtain.

They didn't come out again in the three hours Gibbs and Tony stayed.

With their targets out of sight and no Bernstein to get them an introduction, Gibbs eventually called it a night and they headed back to the house. The reports were very short that night. Tony tried not to be disappointed, but it was always a bit of a let down to come back from an op empty handed after the anticipation had built throughout the day. He consoled himself with the thought that tomorrow might be their lucky day.

As with the previous two nights, both men showered and wrote their reports. They settled on the couch for an hour or so, drinking coffee and watching the news. They sat close, but Tony was careful to keep from actually touching Gibbs, conscious of the growing struggle to keep things professional.

Once the news was finished and the coffee was gone, they went through their nightly ablutions and then headed for bed.

*~*

Gibbs woke, dressed and drew back his curtains to be faced with an overcast sky. He headed downstairs and waited the few minutes it took for Tony to appear, then they headed out for their run, following the same route as the day before.

The rain held off through their run and through breakfast- pancakes and the ubiquitous coffee, the two men moving easily around each other in the small kitchen. Gibbs decided to risk heading to the shops. They needed some supplies such as bread and milk, and Tony's DVDs needed to be returned.

Their luck held through grocery purchasing and DVD returning, but the rain finally started not long after they left the rental store and started back to the house. Like the day before, there was very little build up before it was a downpour.

Luckily, the coffee shop was just a few doors down. "We'll duck in here and wait out the worst of it," Gibbs said. And, okay, Gibbs had been planning to head inside regardless of the weather, but that didn't mean Tony had to give him that knowing smirk.

There were only a few people in the queue ahead of Tony and Gibbs, but the rain had the place filling up pretty quickly behind them. It was soon their turn at the counter. The girl from the last time wasn't there; instead they were greeted by the warm smile of a slender woman with white hair, brown eyes and a nametag that said Shirley. Gibbs reckoned her to be in her sixties.

"What can I get you boys?" she asked and Gibbs had to raise a mental eyebrow at that. Sure, he could just about see Tony being called 'boy' by a woman who was probably old enough to be his mother, but himself, with hair as silver as her own and probably not a decade between them? He shook his head and focused on more important things; namely ordering coffee. He ordered black for himself, then turned to Tony with a raised eyebrow.

"Latte…and one of those great looking muffins. Please, Jethro?" he added as Gibbs' other eyebrow went up to join the first. Not that Gibbs was surprised. Tony always wanted some sort of food, especially if it was sweet, and the muffins looked good. Large and fluffy and, he suspected, homemade.

Tony was looking at him with a puppy-dog gaze that rated about a three on the five-scale, but Gibbs just said, "Go find us a table before they're all gone."

"But you'll get me a muffin, right?

Again Gibbs just held his gaze on Tony, even when Shirley said, "How can you resist a face like that?" and Tony's pout climbed up to a two on the scale. Finally Tony skulked away and claimed a table. Satisfied, Gibbs turned back to Shirley with a grin. She was grinning back. "Oh, you're a mean one," she said.

"Ah, keeps him on his toes," Gibbs replied.

"What, stops him thinking his charm and pretty face will get him whatever he wants?" Shirley said with a pointed look at the muffin she'd added to the order without Gibbs ever having to ask for it. She was sharp and Gibbs liked her immediately.

He gave her a sheepish look. "Okay, so I give in in the end, but at least he had to work for it," he defended as he handed over some cash.

Shirley laughed and said, "You keep telling yourself that, my dear." She gave him his change and Gibbs picked up the tray and headed for the table. Tony's eyes lit up and his face split into a grin when he saw the muffin. Gibbs always marvelled at how the tiniest gesture seemed to make Tony's day, but that thought was always followed by the more depressing thought that he probably reacted like that because his childhood had seriously lacked anything similar.

They dragged things out as long as possible, but there was really only so long they could sit at the table in the crowded shop when they weren't eating or drinking anything else. Reluctantly, Gibbs gathered their empty mugs and took them to the counter, handing them over to a young man who looked grateful at not having to fetch them himself. He turned away and saw Tony taking advantage of a momentary break in the customers to speak to Shirley. He approached in time to hear: "My compliments to the chef. That muffin was delicious. Any chance I could get the recipe?"

"Well now, sweetie. If I give you the recipe, there's no reason for you to come back here to brighten my day. I'll give you another muffin though."

"Oh, no…I wasn't trying to get a freebie," Tony protested. Gibbs had seen him like that before; his charm leaving him once someone tried to give him a gift or heartfelt gratitude.

"I know you weren't, my boy. You were being honestly complimentary and I always reward honesty." She handed over the little plastic bag she'd put the muffin in to keep it dry.

Tony beamed at her and said, "Well, thank you, Shirley. I could kiss you."

"And make your Jethro jealous?" she asked with a smile.

Tony's smile turned wicked as he said, "Exactly!"

Shirley gave a delighted laugh and turned to Gibbs. "I guess he's not the only one being kept on his toes!"

Gibbs gave his own short bark of laughter. "Nope, I guess not. Come on, Tony, let's get out of the way and let the paying customers get their chance."

They both said goodbye to Shirley and then headed for the door. It was still raining, but they couldn't stand in the shop all day and it wasn't like they hadn't put raincoats on before leaving the house. Still, by the time they got back into the house, they were both dripping wet. Gibbs watched a droplet of water roll out of Tony's flattened hair and down the side of his face, before vanishing into the neck of his coat. He tore his eyes away quickly, instead removing his coat and shoes and arranging them so they'd dry out as quickly as possible. Tony followed suit and then headed into the little downstairs bathroom, coming out with the hand towel and using it to rub his hair vigorously, leaving it sticking out at odd angles. Gibbs took the towel when Tony finished, his shorter hair not needing as much drying.

It was a matter of moments to put the shopping away and then the two men settled in the living room, Gibbs with his book and Tony surfing the net. Gibbs was perfectly happy as the next few hours slid past, engrossed in his book except for the few minutes taken to make sandwiches- he and Tony once again moving round the kitchen easily. However, he noticed that Tony was getting antsy. "Ants in your pants, Tony?"

"Sorry, boss. It's just…I've got this feeling that things are really going to kick off tonight and the waiting's killing me." Tony looked a little sheepish at having been caught, but Gibbs could understand the feelings. He had the same anticipation running through him, but he was better at compartmentalising it. He stood and headed for the hallway and the phone book kept there. He leafed through to the page he wanted, made a couple of calls and then headed back into the living room.

"Get changed, Tony."

"Boss?"

"We're going to the gym. I've found a local one that has a sparring ring and we're going to work a bit of that energy off."

Tony grinned and headed up the stairs, returning a few minutes later dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. "Need to do laundry later, these are my last pair of sweatpants," he commented.

"We can do it when we get back, there'll still be time before we have to go to the club," Gibbs answered. Truth was, he could do with some of his clothes going through the machine too.

They drove to the gym, which wasn't very far, signed up, changed in the locker room and headed into the sparring area. The ring was empty so, after doing some warm up stretches, the two men started their session.

Gibbs enjoyed sparring with Tony for a lot of reasons: There was the simple pleasure of warm and aching muscles after a good workout; he liked keeping his body in shape- something which was getting a little bit harder now; he got the opportunity to touch Tony a lot without anyone thinking it suspicious; but mostly it was because Tony gave him a challenge. Sure, Kate had the moves, but she was always out to prove herself with Gibbs and never let herself truly enjoy it and let herself adapt. She had been trained in the Secret Service methods and by god she was going to use them! Gibbs found it easy to get inside her guard as he learnt her style and once he was there, he could simply overwhelm her with physical strength. As for McGee, he was still a novice, nowhere near proficient enough to be able to adapt his moves, so Gibbs still had to go slow and tutor the younger man. Tony, though, was a challenge. Physically Tony had the advantages- taller, broader, younger, stronger, faster. Hell, even his 20/10 vision was better than Gibbs' failing eyesight, but all that just made Gibbs _think_. The Marine Corps had taught him how to use his brain as much as his body in a fight. The Corps had also taught him methods of defeating opponents who were bigger than him, but Tony wasn't big enough, his centre of gravity not different enough from Gibbs' own, for a lot of those to work. Plus, his style wasn't as conventional as Kate's. Tony had learnt different techniques from the police and he had also picked up little morsels along the way through dealing with the criminals he'd faced every day, a lot of whom didn't go quietly. Not to mention moves Gibbs had taught him. All that added up to a satisfying workout for Gibbs, but he also liked that Tony enjoyed himself and was willing to learn the moves Gibbs taught him, rather than balking and thinking that Gibbs didn't find his training adequate like Kate was wont to do occasionally.

So it was that they tossed each other around for a few hours, throwing and deflecting punches and kicks. More often than not, it was Gibbs taking Tony down to the mat, but Tony was taking Gibbs down more frequently as they practiced and he learnt new moves. Gibbs always felt pride when Tony succeeded, even though he scowled and growled about it. He suspected that Tony saw through the act, judging from the smug grin he usually received. At one point, Tony threw a punch that surprised Gibbs. He was able to block it though, and then spent the next half hour teaching Tony the block and having him practice it.

Eventually, however, Gibbs was glad to note that Tony's seemingly boundless energy had started to flag- a relief, as his own had started to flag a little while back- and they headed to the locker room for a quick shower and change back into their clean clothes, before heading back to the house to rest. It was a fine line, wearing Tony out enough to get rid of the antsy fidgeting, but not so much that either of them went into the club tired. Gibbs had the same feeling that something was going to happen that evening as Tony did and he wanted them both alert.

They were almost back to the house when Tony asked, "Can we stop at the store? I need a few bits so I can cook tonight."

"We can order in again," Gibbs said.

"We can," Tony agreed, "but I need something to distract myself with."

Gibbs glanced across at Tony, before turning his attention back to the road. He didn't appear particularly on edge, but Gibbs didn't see any reason not to indulge Tony's need to keep busy. In a typically breakneck move, Gibbs cut across oncoming traffic and headed for the shopping centre. He smirked when Tony grabbed the dashboard. The younger man was mostly acclimated to Gibbs' driving now, so it was very satisfying to catch him out.

"That's a yes then, is it?" Tony said dryly.

A few minutes later they were stepping into the grocery shop, having pulled into a convenient parking space on the street outside. "Omelette okay?" Tony asked.

"Sure," Gibbs responded. He followed Tony round the store, surprised at the amount of items Tony was picking up. To him, an omelette was pretty much eggs with a bit of ham and cheese and maybe a mushroom, but Tony was loading his basket with a variety of vegetables, meat and cheeses. Gibbs watched, amused, as Tony gazed into his basket for a moment, 'hmmm'ed and then headed back to the vegetable section to sort through the potatoes until he found two large ones that apparently met his standards. When he didn't head off to add anything more, Gibbs said, "You done?"

Tony took one more look and then nodded. "Yep, I think so, boss… No, wait!" He headed over to the eggplants that had caught his attention and picked out a small one, then added a few sticks of celery too. "Now I'm done," he said decisively.

"You sure now?" Gibbs teased with a grin.

"Uh huh," Tony said, nodding exaggeratedly and giving Gibbs a grin of his own.

"Well then, let's go pay before you change your mind."

Tony didn't change his mind and Gibbs was soon handing over Jethro Thompson's card, wanting to build up a bit of credit history, just in case anyone checked his alias out. Not many minutes later, they were stepping through the internal door of the garage at the house. Tony headed into the kitchen and Gibbs picked up his book, leaving Tony to it, understanding his need to be busy, having felt it himself when he was suddenly overcome with the need to cook a few days ago.

He'd let Tony work his way through it and wasn't going to complain that he got food into the bargain. It had sure looked like it was going to be good with all the ingredients Tony had selected.

*~*

Tony just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen that night. It was a feeling he'd learned to trust over the years and, despite the lengthy sparring session with Gibbs, he could still feel the anticipatory energy thrumming through him. Sometimes when he got like this he went out on the town and found some anonymous person for some no-strings sex, but apart from having to maintain his cover, the fact that this _whatever_ with Gibbs had kicked up a notch put paid to any desires he had in that area. Other times he combated the feeling by making bolognaise sauce from the recipe his Italian grandmother had given him, but Gibbs had unwittingly removed that avenue when he made his own spaghetti bolognaise the other day. Besides which, the way his stomach was fluttering right now, Tony didn't think he could take anything too heavy and an omelette was nice and light. Still, he'd picked up as many ingredients as possible so that he could lose himself in the chopping, dicing and slicing.

And lose himself he did, orchestrating things so that the omelette was perfectly browned at the same time that the jacket potatoes became nicely crisp-skinned. He smiled to himself; he liked it when things went smoothly like that. He dished up and called to Gibbs.

"No need to shout, Tony," came the quiet response.

Startled, Tony spun round. "Jesus Christ, Gibbs, are you trying to kill me?! How long have you been there?" 'You need to get your head back in the game, DiNozzo,' he thought to himself angrily, though he knew that, once he stepped into the club, his mind would go to the calm place it always did when he went undercover.

Evidently Gibbs understood that too, as he didn't react to Tony's startlement with more than a slight raise of one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth, instead answering with, "Heard you getting the plates out and figured things'd be about ready.”

He pushed away from the doorframe he'd been leaning against and stepped alongside Tony. The two men set about opening their baked potatoes and melting butter in them. There was also a bit of the grated cheese left over. Tony saw Gibbs eyeing it and smiled before pushing the chopping board nearer. "Go ahead, boss, I don't want any of it," he said. Gibbs didn't need to be told twice and Tony watched him pile a generous handful on top of the potato.

Satisfied, both men carried their plates to the dining room and Gibbs popped back into the kitchen to return a few moments later with two opened bottles of beer. He set one next to Tony and then settled into his seat. Conversation took a back seat as both men tucked in with gusto, Gibbs taking a moment to compliment, "'S good, Tony," between mouthfuls.

Tony smiled at the compliment and said, "Thanks, boss," before falling back into his own silent eating. He actually found himself to be quite hungry in the end, the process of making the food having calmed his antsiness enough for him to enjoy his food.

Once the food was eaten, Gibbs went through to wash everything up. Tony was sent into the living room to relax, so he switched on the TV and lost himself in mocking the procedures of an episode of CSI he found.

Eventually it was time to once again get ready to go to the club. Tony took extra care with his appearance as he knew, despite the fact that he'd be keeping an ear and eye open, his main job was to make Gibbs look good.

He was nearly ready, adding the finishing touches to his hair, when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and then answered with a teasing, "Hey, dad."

Sam Schofield's response was a snort. "Very funny, kid."

"So, what can I do for you, Sam? Someone been in touch?"

"They have," Sam replied. "Some guy, said his name was Mark, just got off the phone not five minutes ago. He claimed to be a friend of yours, said he was worried 'cause you're in an abusive relationship with a guy who deals in guns, but you won't listen to him and leave the guy, so he wanted me to talk to you. I told him you weren't my problem anymore and what Thompson did to you was between the pair of you."

"Great, thanks, Sam. Hopefully it convinced them."

"Just be careful, Tony," Sam said, a little worry colouring his voice.

"I'll be fine, Sam, Gibbs will be watching my back."

"All the same, call me when you catch these guys, let me know you're okay."

Tony smiled at the true concern from his friend. It had been too long since he'd last spoken to the man and he vowed to himself that he wouldn't leave it so long again. "I will, Sam, and maybe we can have a proper chat too."

"I'd like that, kid. Good luck and I hope to hear from you soon."

Tony hung up with a small smile and set the phone on his bedside cabinet; Tony Schofield would never carry a phone, as he'd be with the only person likely to want to speak to him. Besides, he thought as he eyed himself in the mirror, there was nowhere he could carry a phone that wouldn't ruin the line of his skin-tight outfit.

He had one last finishing touch to make- attaching the thin mic to the tongue of his collar. He pressed it firmly between thumb and forefinger, making sure it was securely stuck on, then headed down the stairs to meet Gibbs.

He walked into the living room to catch the tail end of a phone conversation between Gibbs and Kate. "…and McGee get set up. We'll be at the club in no more than a quarter of an hour." He hung up before Kate could possibly have had a chance to say any kind of goodbye.

"That Kate?" Tony asked.

Gibbs looked up and Tony shivered slightly at the look in his eyes as Gibbs ran his gaze quickly up and down, almost without seeming to realise he'd done it. "Yep. She called to say that Nemec's been on the phone to my old 'superior', wanted to know what sort of man he'd be hiring if he took me on."

"Yeah, I just had a call from Sam saying Davies called as a 'concerned friend', wanting dear old dad to rescue me from the abusive relationship I'm in. Sam basically washed his hands of me. Hopefully that'll have satisfied them."

"Looks like your feeling was right about it going down tonight. It also looks like Bernstein’s in with our boys in some way- there’s no one else with enough information on our aliases to be able to tell them who to contact before we’ve even met them! Question is, what’s his angle; is he involved, or just a satisfied customer wanting to help out his supplier?" Gibbs said. They pondered in silence for a moment or two, but Gibbs realised that the only way they’d get answers was to get going, so he asked, "You ready?"

Tony nodded and they headed out to the garage, climbed in the car and drove the short trip to the club in silence. Tony spent the time running through everything they knew one last time. Just in case. He assumed Gibbs was doing the same. He scanned the street outside the club and spotted Kate and McGee's stake out. He glanced at Gibbs and got a subtle nod- he'd spotted them too. Gibbs parked the car and they both activated their mics.

"DiNozzo," Tony identified and, because it was only a one-way mic, watched their colleagues for the signal. McGee moved, scratching the side of his nose to indicate they'd received Tony's signal. The same process was repeated for Gibbs' mic and then they left the car and entered the club.

They'd left it a bit later to arrive, not wanting to appear too eager for the deal. That meant that the table Tony had started to think of as theirs was already taken. Gibbs moved to the neighbouring table, scanning the room surreptitiously as they went. "Wall booth, one o'clock," he muttered. Tony risked a quick glance and, sure enough, there were Bernstein and Davies, with Nemec and Bernstein's sub, Hassim, kneeling at their sides. Tony still found it a little strange to see the captain kneeling next to his XO.

Gibbs sat without acknowledging he'd seen them. "Go get me a bourbon, we'll see whether they make a move while we're split up."

"You want me to talk to them if they approach me?" Tony murmured. The music was reasonably loud, but it didn't hurt to be careful.

Gibbs was equally quiet when he answered, "A little. Use your judgement on what you think is the sort of question your master should answer, but you're probably safe answering a few questions about yourself, just to confirm what Schofield told them."

Tony nodded. That's what he'd been thinking, but it was good to know that Gibbs was on the same page. He moved to the bar, working his way through the crowd while keeping his head down as much as possible. He was just waiting for the bartender to return with his order when he felt someone appear very close to his right hand side. He couldn't risk glancing across and there weren't any convenient mirrored surfaces to catch a glimpse of his new neighbour, so he had to wait and see what happened next.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Tony Schofield?"

Tony turned his head towards the other man, but didn't look up, or answer, playing the sub role to the hilt.

"You may speak, boy," the voice said, a little sharply.

"Yes, sir," Tony said.

"That's better. You belong to Jethro Thompson?"

"Yes, sir," Tony said again. He assumed he was speaking to Davies, but was itching to look up and confirm it. He resisted the urge and waited for the next question.

"I spoke to your father today."

"Yes, sir," this was getting repetitive, he thought.

Evidently his questioner did too. "What do you mean 'yes, sir'? Don't you want to know what was said?" The tone was a little irritated.

"May I speak freely, sir?"

"You may, boy."

"Thank you, sir. To be frank, sir, I don't care what was said. My father was never very interested in me and he gave up any last vestiges of parental care when he used me as payment for a deal, because he couldn't get all the money together in time." Tony allowed bitterness to creep into his tone.

"Must've been a shock to suddenly be immersed in the dom/sub scene."

"Not really, sir. My father always expected me to do what he wanted, when he wanted, but at least my master wants me close to him and pays me attention. I'd say it's actually an improvement for me, sir."

"So, you’re loyal to your master, even though this wasn't a lifestyle choice you picked?"

"Yes, sir," and Tony gave that as much conviction as he could.

"Good. Come on, your master's moved to my table."

Tony picked up the drink that had been placed in front of him a few minutes earlier and trailed along in Davies' wake. With those questions, there wasn't anyone else it could be, but part of Tony, the thorough investigator part, was still desperate to look up and get visual confirmation that the voice belonged to the right face.

Luckily, as they arrived at the table and Tony placed the drink in front of Gibbs, before sinking to his knees and leaning against Gibbs' leg, Bernstein was quick to give introductions. "Ah, Mark Davies, Jethro Thompson," the two men shook hands as Bernstein went on with, "and the exquisite Tony, such a joy to behold. I've just been telling Jethro all about you, Mark."

"Nothing bad, I hope, Albert?" Davies said with a smile.

"Of course not, my friend."

Davies sat and the three doms began talking. Tony tuned out the small talk; it was simply a tactic of feeling the waters and wouldn't shed any light on anything case relevant. Instead, he took surreptitious looks around. Hassim was still tense and unhappy, held close by the meaty fist wrapped in his chain. Nemec, though, was as at ease as Tony was. He was also as alert. They caught each others eye on a couple of occasions and Tony reasoned that Nemec was under similar orders to himself: Keep eyes and ears open in case anyone says anything useful, because they forgot the sub was there.

Tony watched Davies and Nemec interact as the doms spoke. It seemed that, despite their complete disregard for the people they sold, they were very solicitous of each other. Nemec sat against Davies without having to be restrained like Bernstein’s boy. He leaned into even the slightest caress from Davies, and Davies would periodically pull the slice of lemon from his drink and offer it to Nemec, who enthusiastically sucked the liquor off both the lemon and Davies’ fingers. Tony took it as a good sign that Gibbs wouldn’t have to resort to hitting him to get in with Davies, which was a relief.

Eventually the conversation shifted and Tony tuned back in when he heard Davies ask, "So, what is it you do, Mr Thompson?"

"Jethro, please," Gibbs said, nodding when Davies replied that Gibbs must call him Mark. "To answer your question the simple way, I supply things."

"And the hard way?"

Gibbs hesitated a moment and Davies said, "Come now, no need to be coy, Jethro, not when I know some of it from Albert here."

Gibbs gave a deprecating little chuckle and replied, "Sorry. I'm sure you can appreciate why I don't just come out and say it. You never know who could be listening."

"Of course. If it will make you more comfortable, I have use of a private room in the back?"

Gibbs agreed and they all stood, the doms picking up their drinks too. 'Now we're getting somewhere,' thought Tony as they moved through the curtained off doorway and down a short hall, stepping into a lushly appointed room. Well, suite might be more accurate, from the little Tony could see, there was a comfortable looking pair of couches and a four-seater dining table on one side and a bed on the other. Tony could also see a large cabinet and what looked like a saw horse he'd seen in Gibbs' basement, only the top was padded. There was a closed door in the wall opposite the one they'd entered, which Tony assumed led to a bathroom. He couldn't see much else from his kneeling position next to Gibbs on one of the couches.

"So, you supply things," Davies prompted, once all three men were comfortably seated, Davies and Bernstein on the couch across from Gibbs'.

"Yes, basically I supply anything anyone wants, but generally it's things people can't get from the local store."

"Like trained submissives?" Davies questioned.

Gibbs started running his fingers through Tony's hair as he answered, "Like trained submissives. However, they might be the most fun, but they're not the quickest turnaround, not with the time it takes to train one before selling on, so I supply the other stuff to keep my profits going."

"Of course. So, do you train women as well as men, and how many do you take at a time?"

"I have trained a few women, but I have to admit that my own tastes lean more towards men and I find them easier to train. As for how many, I usually take two at a time, if I can get them. I've found that it not only doubles my profit without adding all that much extra time to the training schedule, but it's also helps to get a new sub used to working with another sub in a threesome situation and you never know when that might be a requirement from a buyer." Gibbs' answer struck Tony as surprisingly reasonable and thought out, considering they hadn't discussed things in this much detail. It just went to reinforce Tony's admiration for Gibbs ability to play it by ear and think on his feet.

"And how long does it take to complete training?" This from Bernstein, who had remained quiet up 'til now.

"Well, that can vary a little depending on certain factors. If I've got a particularly stubborn sub who needs to be completely broken and rebuilt, that'll take longer than one who's pretty accepting of the training. It's always a nice surprise to find a natural sub, but not all that frequent. Also, if I've got a buyer waiting and have a list of their required skills, I can cut the training time down, because I don't have to give the sub as broad a skill set to cover all the bases like I do for the subs I've not pre-sold. As a general rule of thumb, you're looking at three to six weeks."

"You told me you'd had Tony for three months and he was 'almost ready'," Bernstein said.

"Ah well, that's because I've taken my time with Tony. He's mine, there's no need to rush through his training. I've been able to take my time with him and it's been highly enjoyable." Gibbs used the hand he'd been stroking Tony's hair with to grip a handful and tip his head back so that he could lean in for a kiss. Tony closed his eyes and parted his lips, melting against Gibbs' leg and accepting Gibbs' tongue into his mouth.

"Double standards?" Davies said with a smirk once Gibbs released Tony and sat back. Tony stayed slumped heavily against him, wrapping a hand round Gibbs' ankle and rubbing his thumb in little circles.

"Not at all. I put a lot of effort into making the subs I sell the best they can be, but that doesn't mean I can't spend a little extra time on Tony. Think of it like this: You own your jewellery stores, Albert. I'm sure your items are excellent, but if you wanted something for yourself, you wouldn't settle for those items, which may be exquisite, but are not unique. There're several other items of the same style. So, you get one of your guys to add that something extra to it. All those other pieces have been made to the highest standard, but your piece has got just a little extra to make it unique."

Tony glanced from the corner of his eye to see what Bernstein and Davies made of that and saw them both nodding in understanding.

"I get it," Davies said, confirming Tony's thought. "So, if we agree to a deal, you'll be wanting two subs, preferably men, every month or so? I have to warn you that I may not be able to meet such a short timescale. I'm often out of the country for four months or more."

"That's ok. To be honest, it takes up to six weeks to train the subs, but there's not always a buyer waiting at the other end. Sometimes I have to hold on to one or both until I can find an interested party. And anyway, if I spend all my time endlessly churning out subs for other people, I don't have enough time to spend with my own."

"Makes sense. If you don’t mind me asking, why are you in the market for a new supplier if you’ve obviously had a successful arrangement going on previously?”

“My previous supplier up in Baltimore got a little careless and the cops started showing an interest. There wasn’t anything to link me to him, but I don’t do business with sloppy men.” Gibbs replied.

Davies pondered that for a moment before nodding and saying, “So, you'd be happy with taking two off my hands as and when I'm in the country? I take $5,000 a head."

"That's a good price, as long as I get to examine what's on offer and can pick the most likely candidates out. And yes, as and when suits me. Like I said, I have plenty of other things that people want."

"I'm perfectly happy to arrange a viewing so you can select the ones you want," Davies replied. Tony felt that things seemed to be going a little too easily now. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was just something in the…speed or openness… to the way that things were being conducted that was making the hairs on the back of his neck raise. Davies seemed to be giving an awful lot of information out that could be used against him in court, yet he didn't seem the type to be unaware of what the repercussions of what he was saying could be. He wouldn't have been so successful in the human-trafficking trade, right in the middle of the Navy, if he were. He just hoped Gibbs was picking up on it too, as there was nothing he could do to raise awareness of it himself.

Gibbs next sentence was a relief to Tony as it indicated that he was aware of the easiness. "Well, I guess that's settled then. I have to say, that was one of the quickest and most painless deals I've made in a while. This calls for a drink and then we can shake on it and finalise a viewing time and payment details."

Davies sat back in his seat and crossed his legs. "Not quite as easy as that, I'm afraid," he said.

"Oh? What else do you need?" Gibbs wondered. "If you want a deposit I'll give you one, but I'd rather wait until I've seen what you've got on offer. I very much doubt you want me to sign anything, as it would be a bad idea to have any paper trail linking us together, just in case."

"It's that 'just in case' that I'm talking about," Davies said with a hint of suspicion in his tone. "I need you to take a little test for me and prove you're legit."

'That doesn't sound good,' Tony thought to himself. 'Has our cover been blown?' He couldn't see how it could've been; their cover stories were airtight and it would take some digging to prove that the contact names and numbers were false and they'd stuck in character even while 'off duty' during the day. He frowned and glanced around briefly, finding Nemec watching him again.

"You accusing me of being a cop?" Gibbs asked, affronted.

"Not at all; it's just unfortunate for you that the last two men who tried to do a deal with me turned out to be naval lieutenants doing a very bad undercover job."

"You telling me that you've got the authorities sniffing round you? I've gotta say, I left Baltimore because they were getting a little too close and I don't want to agree to any deals that'll have me moving again before I've even finished unpacking."

"Relax, Jethro. I spotted them as soon as they walked in the door- the guy playing sub just didn't have the right attitude for it at all, didn't tell them a thing."

'Great!' Tony thought. It would've been nice for Keeffe to mention a botched undercover attempt before they came in on their own op. Judging by the way Gibbs tightened his hand on Tony's scalp, he was thinking the same thing.

"If that's the case, why have you told me so much?" Gibbs wondered.

"Simple; whether you're a cop or not, there's very little chance you would've stuck around if the very first thing I said was that I needed you to take a test. If you were a cop, you would've assumed you'd been made and if you're a client, well, it's not the best way to open a dialogue for a potential deal. Especially once you heard what the test involves."

'That actually makes a disturbing kind of sense,' Tony thought.

"Okay, so what is it you want me to do?" Gibbs asked slowly.

"That's easy. I want you to sit there and not move."

That…was weird. Evidently Gibbs thought the same. "That doesn't sound like much of a test. Unless you want me to sit here for days, or something."

"No, only minutes. The test is whether you can sit still and not interfere, while your boy is tied to that horse and given the fucking of his life," and now Davies sounded every bit the type of man that could sell his fellow human beings into slavery. "I'm sure you can see how that would weed out any cops."

Tony went cold, literally getting goose bumps on his arms. The hand Gibbs had at the base of his skull tightened so much that Tony knew it'd leave a bruise. That was okay though, he was gripping Gibbs' ankle so hard that he'd leave a bruise too.

His mind went blank, save for a litany of, 'Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck!"

*~*

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' thought Gibbs, 'that's not good!' Tony was frozen against his leg, squeezing his ankle in a vice-like grip and Gibbs became aware of how hard he was gripping Tony's neck. He forced his hand to loosen and instead started a soothing motion with his thumb against the skin behind Tony's ear.

"And if I say no?" he asked, though he had a pretty good idea.

"Well," Davies started, touching Nemec's shoulder and, once his sub looked up, indicating the left-hand bedside cabinet with a nod of his head. "As I said before, you really know too much," he finished as they watched Nemec move to the cabinet, open the top draw and pull out a Beretta 9mm, which he expertly checked before sinking back down at Davies’ side.

The message was loud and clear. Gibbs wracked his brain for a way out, but there really wasn't much choice. There was no way that Todd and McGee could play cavalry; they wouldn't even make it past the bouncer in their conservative suits that just screamed 'cop', and that wasn't even taking into account the fact that Davies had locked the door once everyone was in the room and by the time his agents got it open, Nemec could've shot Tony and Gibbs twice over. It was also clear that they weren't going to be allowed to simply say 'no thanks' and walk out the door.

No, all they could do was stay in character and do their best to come out alive on the other side. With that in mind, and also as a way of sending instructions to Todd and McGee, Gibbs said, "So what, are you waiting to see if I'm going to call in the cavalry? I can assure you I've not got anyone waiting in the wings. I'm not a cop."

"You'd be unlikely to admit it if you were, Jethro," Davies remarked.

"Okay, so we do this. You said 'we' would fuck Tony, who's 'we'?"

"Myself, of course, and Albert."

'No way,' Gibbs thought. That slime-ball Bernstein wasn't touching Tony; Gibbs didn't trust him not to really hurt the younger man. He had to be careful here, doing what he could to make things easier for Tony, but keeping it in character. Jethro Thompson was a man as untroubled by conscience as Davies and he had to remember that.

"Just you. You remember me saying that I don't share? Well, I'm doing the deal with you, Davies, so I can just about stand you touching my property, but Bernstein's a step too far. Also? You use a condom and lube."

"You aren't afraid I'll hurt him, are you, Jethro?" Davies asked with a smirk.

"Tony's _mine_ , no one gets to leave their come in him or make him bleed except me! Those are _my_ terms and, assuming you actually _want_ a deal at the end of this farce, you'll accept them!" Gibbs growled.

Davies eyed him, seemingly put out by being dictated to when he had the upper hand. He must've seen something in Gibbs face though, because he agreed. "Fair enough. There's no need to make this so unpleasant that our deal falls through before it's even fully formed. If you'll both follow me?" suddenly all polite civility once more.

And that was it, Gibbs thought as he followed instructions and sat on the bed, facing the horse, which stood side on to him. He'd done all he could for Tony now, save offering himself instead, or getting them out of there.

There was no way that Davies would accept Thompson as a switch, not after all the alpha possessiveness or the dishonourable discharge for conduct unbecoming and as for getting out of there, he eyed the room and its occupants. One door, which Bernstein had now moved to stand in front of and Nemec still had the gun and had situated himself so that he'd have a clear shot at Gibbs before he could even finish getting up from the bed. There was no way he'd be able to reach the gun. He watched as Davies pushed Tony forward so he lay along the top of the horse, head turned towards Gibbs. He kicked his legs apart and shackled them to the corresponding leg of the horse, before moving round and securing Tony's wrists to the front legs. There was also no way he could release Tony in time to make a quick getaway.

No, all he could do now was keep himself calm and not exacerbate things, hope that Kate and McGee didn't try anything stupid and offer Tony what support he could. To that end, he caught the younger man's eyes. Tony looked scared, though he was trying to hide it, but his hazel-green eyes were wide and his mouth was a tight line. He attempted a small smile when Gibbs locked their gazes, but it was nowhere near his usual standards. Gibbs tried to send his strength and support with his eyes; he just hoped Tony understood.

Davies stood back and admired his handiwork. Apparently satisfied, he moved behind Tony and Gibbs saw him reach up to undo Tony's trousers. It took him some effort to peel the tight purple leather down, but he eventually worked it to mid-thigh, leaving Tony's ass and the lightly haired tops of his legs visible.

"Commando. Nice," Davies said admiringly and Gibbs had to clench his teeth to stop himself saying anything he might regret. He clenched his fists too, once Davies started fondling Tony's ass, squeezing the cheeks and running his fingers over them, up to the small of Tony's back and down again, dipping one thumb into the crack.

Tony jerked slightly at the sensation, but the way he was bound left very little room to move. His eyes grew fractionally more frantic, but he remained otherwise unmoved and Gibbs marvelled at Tony's control, wondering if, in Tony’s place, he'd be able to keep it together when he knew it was only going to get worse.

Davies stepped away from Tony, over to the nearby bedside cabinet. He pulled open the drawer and retrieved a condom packet and a tube of lubricant, brandishing them a little in Gibbs direction with a raised eyebrow. Gibbs just scowled at him, so Davies moved back to his place between Tony's legs, setting his acquisitions down mid-way along Tony's broad back, before resuming his fondling. After another minute of that, he picked up the lube and squirted a thankfully generous amount onto the small of Tony's back. Tony flinched and Gibbs shifted his gaze back to Tony's to try and offer what reassurance he could. As a consequence, he missed it when Davies pushed two lube-covered fingers deep into Tony's body, but he did see the effect; Tony's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in a wince. Gibbs could feel his own fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. If he was feeling this bad, what must Tony be going through?

*~*

Tony winced and his hips jerked as much as his restricted movement would allow when he felt the two fingers shove roughly inside him. He thanked God that Gibbs had convinced the man to use lube as it eased the way and stopped the painful burn from being too much. He was also thankful that, although he kept his male partners to a work-safe minimum, he wasn't so restricted with his own fingers or, when he really needed to feel full, the vibrator he kept in the drawer by his bed. This also helped ease the way, but maybe more importantly, it hopefully meant he was loose enough to tally with the idea that Gibbs had been fucking him for the last several months.

Or maybe not.

"Tight," Davies said, though Tony thought he sounded more appreciative than suspicious.

Gibbs was evidently not taking the chance as he said, "Yeah, I don't think his father was all that accepting of Tony seeing women, never mind men, and I've not shared 'til now."

Davies gave a little moan. "You mean I'm only the second man to have this lovely, tight ass?" The news obviously excited him as he decided it was time to step things up. There was a perfunctory stretch with three fingers and then a moment of blessed emptiness as Davies put the condom on, then Tony felt the large, blunt head of Davies' cock at his hole.

'Oh God, it's really happening!' he thought a little hysterically. He sought Gibbs' eyes once again and took strength from the fact that his boss was living this with him. Sure, he wasn't feeling the same pain and violation, but he winced when Tony did and Tony had seen how his jaw and fists clenched with the effort of sitting still.

The thought flitted through his mind that Kate and McGee were also hearing his ordeal. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, or how it might change their reactions to him, but then all thought was scattered as Davies pushed forwards.

He couldn't stop the whimper that escaped at the painful entry. He didn't do this often enough that two fingers were sufficient prep.

Davies moaned obscenely and Tony stared into Gibbs' eyes intensely, using the laser-like blue gaze to anchor himself against the burning sensation.

He needed to relax, which caused his brain to give an hysterical internal laugh as it threw up a garbled memory of the rape advice all new undercover vice officers received. He'd not paid much attention at the time, so certain that it'd never happen to him, but he did remember that he had to relax, which was what amused him, because surely that was just common sense! The only other thing he could recall was that a lot of rapists lost interest if you urinated, but he guessed that was more relevant to women, just going on basic anatomy.

Davies pushed in relentlessly, forcing Tony's body to accept the intrusion, though he did his best to relax. Most of his mind blanked, unwilling to deal with the reality of being raped, as he felt Davies bottom out, balls slapping against his ass and rigid cock deep inside.

The part of Tony's brain that didn't shut down was the analytical side and that was still working on finding the good things in a bad situation. Admittedly there were few, but at least the man was using a condom, so Tony could probably stop worrying about catching anything, and hey, at least Gibbs saying he didn't share would cover any flaws Davies might find in Tony's performance. What was more, he'd managed to make himself relax so that it hadn't hurt nearly as much as it could've done.

Unfortunately, Davies chose that moment to lean forwards so that he lay over Tony's back and could speak close to his ear, "You're so hot and tight, boy. I can see why Jethro wants to keep you all to himself. I'm beginning to wish I'd not agreed to the condom, 'cause I like the idea of filling you with my hot seed.

"And while we're on the subject of coming; you don't get to. This is for my satisfaction, not yours."

'Oh my God, _'hot seed'_! Does anybody actually say that?' Tony thought a little desperately. He'd been sure that was only ever said in bad porn. 'And as for not coming; yeah, not going to be a problem.' There was no way he was even going to get hard, let alone get enough pleasure to reach orgasm.

Tony was aware that his mind was flailing, latching onto the most inane things, but he couldn't seem to stop it and wasn't really sure he wanted to. As far as he could see, being divorced from reality right about then could only be a good thing. Even those thoughts were cut off when Davies took a firm hold of his hips and started moving.

Tony clenched his jaw and fists with each powerful thrust of Davies' cock into his unwilling body. He tried to take some comfort from the fact that he'd had enough experience to mean that the invasion didn't really hurt him and that Gibbs was there to give him something else to focus on. And focus he did, locking gazes with Gibbs and feeling so relieved that Gibbs didn't try to look away and wasn't looking at him with pity.

Davies was moaning and grunting as he took his pleasure, but things got even worse when Bernstein suddenly started talking, egging Davies on. "Is he good, Mark? He looks good from here."

"God, Al, he's so hot and tight, like a virgin, but at the same time, he's taking me so easily and smoothly. You should be proud of him, Jethro."

"Oh, I am," Gibbs answered and Tony managed to dredge up a smile for him as he heard the sincerity in Gibbs' voice.

Unfortunately, Bernstein ruined the moment by opening his mouth again. "God, I can see him just swallowing you up, Mark," he leered. "I want to shove my cock down his throat and see what he looks like filled from both ends."

Tony felt his eyes widen in dismay at that suggestion, remembering once again that Kate and McGee were listening in and, worse, there was the possibility that the recordings could be used in court, heard by the judge, jury and other sundry persons found in a courtroom. He had hardly any time to think about it, however, as Davies was evidently aroused by the idea and shoved in extra hard, with the unhappy side-effect of nailing Tony's prostate. Tony gasped at the unwanted pleasure that coursed through him, but it was drowned out by Davies' hoarse shout as his cock was squeezed tightly when Tony's body clenched in reaction to the sensation.

"You like that idea, huh, Mark?" Bernstein asked with a chuckle. Davies' wordless answer was another thrust at the same angle, with the same results. Bernstein, meanwhile, had turned his attention to Gibbs, taking a step away from the door, "What do you say, Jethro? Can I convince you to let me have a go?"

Tony didn't believe for a second that Gibbs would allow it, but he couldn't stop his gaze from becoming pleading, despite that assurance. Sure enough, "Try it and I'll let Tony bite your dick off!" Relieved, Tony managed to muster a wolfish smile, being careful to show as many of his teeth as he could. Bernstein held his hands out and subsided back against the door.

Davies chuckled and gasped out between thrusts, "Your…pet's…got spirit…Jethro. I like it." He released his tight grip on Tony's hip with his right hand and moved it to stroke Tony's lower back. The affectionate caress did more to undermine Tony's control than anything else up to that point and he shuddered.

Now he'd found the angle, Davies was relentless in his pounding into Tony's prostate, obviously getting off on the way Tony's body milked his cock after each hit. Tony was horrified to find himself getting half hard. Intellectually, he knew it was simply an autonomic response to the stimulation, but that didn't stop his eyes sliding shut in shame. There was a real danger of him getting hard enough to come if Davies kept it up for long enough, which wouldn't do Tony's mental state any good and would also lead to unknown consequences for going against Davies' orders. With this in mind, his eyes still squeezed shut, teeth clenched tight and hands fisted around the wooden legs they were shackled to, Tony put his all into clenching down on the invading cock on every thrust, doing his best to make the man come already and get out of his body.

Judging by the loud, wordless noises Davies was making and the way his thrusts became erratic, Tony's desperate plan was working. He felt conflicted. On the one hand, he was sickened by the fact that he was actively participating in his rape, rather than simply lying there and taking it, but on the other hand, he knew it was the only way to get it over with.

Thankfully, finally, Davies gave one last erratic thrust and stilled. Tony couldn't feel the hot pulses of semen thanks to the condom, but his imagination supplied the details for him.

Davies slumped over Tony's back again and he felt the hot, short breaths against the nape of his neck, ruffling the short hairs there. A drop of sweat hit him, feeling warm against his slightly shocky skin. He shivered, then whimpered as he felt Davies' hand snake round to his own cock. He'd lost most of his erection as soon as the stimulation stopped, but these things weren't instantaneous, so he still had some residual hardness there, which Davies seemed to delight in squeezing a few times and causing some of that hardness to return.

Thankfully he just said, "Good boy," breath hot against Tony's ear, before releasing his hold with one final squeeze and pulling out a little roughly. Tony gave a pained hiss, but that pain was far outweighed by his relief at having the man out of his body at last.

"Can I have my boy back now?" Gibbs asked. Tony thought he might have been trying for bored, but there was too much repressed fury there to really pull it off.

Davies either didn't notice, or didn't care, merely waving a hand towards Tony and saying, "By all means, Jethro."

Gibbs was off the bed like a shot, bending to release Tony as quickly as he could, then helping him to straighten up when Tony found his limbs to be like jelly. He leant against Gibbs' strong body and let his mind shut down for a while, trusting his boss to keep him safe.

*~*

"Can I have my boy back now?" he asked, trying to sound bored with the whole thing, but not sure if he managed it. He was too furious- with Keeffe, with the case, with Davies, with himself- to completely mask it.

Davies was still too lost in his orgasmic high to notice, though, it seemed, as all he managed was a dismissive wave and, "By all means, Jethro."

Gibbs was at Tony's side in the blink of an eye. He set to work undoing the manacles binding Tony to the horse. He started with the left wrist so that he could keep eye contact for as long as possible. Tony's eyes were starting to go a bit glassy, a bit shocky, the adrenaline wearing off now that the ordeal was over.

He quickly undid the cuff and checked Tony's wrist for damage. The cuffs were wide and padded, so he wouldn't bruise badly, but the area was reddened and chaffed where he'd pulled and fought the restraints. The right wrist was the same. Moving to his ankles, Gibbs quickly dealt with the remaining shackles. These had been fastened over the top of Tony's trousers, so Gibbs didn't expect there to be marks. Besides, Tony hadn't been able to move his legs much in the position he was in. Still, Gibbs didn't want to check right there and then, not sure how Tony would react to being touched.

Tony was struggling to stand, so Gibbs had to help him and was relieved when the other man didn't fight him, instead pressing in close. He wasn't sure if it was trust, or whether Tony was still thinking of their cover, but he hoped it was the former. He felt residual hardness pressing against his hip and wasn't really surprised. He'd tried to keep his eyes locked on Tony's as much as possible, but he'd been able to tell when Davies had found the younger man's prostate and wasn't surprised that his body had reacted to the stimulation. It prompted him to say, "Tony, pants," quietly, hoping he wouldn't have to help him set himself to rights, again not sure of the reaction he'd get. He didn't have to worry, as Tony managed to get his trousers up and fastened, though his hands were shaky and lethargic.

By this point Davies had recovered and, as he made his way back over to the pair of couches, said over his shoulder, "If you ever get bored of him, Jethro, you can be assured of a bidding war between myself and Albert."

Tony shivered against him and Gibbs was quick to answer: "That's not going to happen anytime soon." As he spoke, he noticed the sour look Nemec shot Tony at his master's words. Gibbs resolved to keep an eye on the man, as he wasn't sure whether Davies was less invested in their relationship and was only with Nemec for conveniences sake, or whether it was their thing- rile Nemec up until he acted out and then had to be punished.

Though he wanted nothing more than to get Tony out of there, Bernstein had joined Davies on the couch and Nemec had exchanged the gun for a bottle of bourbon and was busy filling the three tumblers the men had brought with them earlier and Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling that the test wasn't finished yet, that what they did in the aftermath was just as telling as what had already happened. After all, Jethro Thompson would be expected to be more interested in the deal than his sub's state of mind, no matter how attached he was to said sub. Truth be told, after what had happened to Tony, Jethro Gibbs was just as interested in sealing the deal and nailing the bastard.

So, he reluctantly steered Tony back over to the couches and settled in his place. Tony dropped to his knees without hesitation, but if Gibbs had needed proof of how shaken the younger man was, it was there in the way he pressed up tightly against Gibbs' leg, wrapping an arm round his calf and turning his head so that his face was partially buried in Gibbs' knee. It was there in the fine tremors Gibbs could feel when he laid his hand on Tony's neck, having decided that his touch would be accepted after considering how close Tony was sitting.

They made small talk for close to an hour before the deal was mentioned again. Gibbs bit his tongue, assuming that this was another facet of the test. He tuned most of it out, keeping just enough attention to be able to respond in the right places, while the rest of him concentrated on trying to keep Tony anchored and trying to keep his own anger under control in case he blew it all.

Eventually Davies brought the conversation back to business and Gibbs tuned his full attention back in. "Well, Jethro, I'm pleased to tell you that you've passed the test with flying colours and I'm convinced that you're serious about this deal. Are you free to view the merchandise tomorrow? The quicker we get things moving, the better."

"Tomorrow's fine, when and where?" Gibbs answered.

"Good, good. Say 8pm? We'll meet here and go in my car. You understand that I want to keep the exact location secret? There’s no point broadcasting the address when I can drive you there myself."

"I thought you'd just decided I was trustworthy, but if that's what you need to do."

"I assure you it's nothing personal, but as you said earlier, you can't tell the cops if you don't have the information. It's one less thing linking us together."

Gibbs had to admit that the man had a point. It wouldn't do him any good mind, because he'd be wearing a tracking device and Abby could follow his every move.

"Fair enough. 8pm, here, and we can stop in again for celebratory drinks once we’ve sealed the deal." They shook hands and then Gibbs raised his glass and downed the remains of the bourbon, before setting the empty tumbler down on the low coffee table. He stood; Tony rising fluidly beside him and part of Gibbs was proud and amazed that Tony could still move like that, still wanted to, knowing the looks it would get from the other two doms. "Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to get Tony home so that I can stake my claim. Nothing personal," he added a little facetiously.

"You don't need to go home for that, Jethro, there's a perfectly good bed here," Bernstein leered.

"Thanks, Albert, but I need my own bed and toys for this. Like I said, I'm a possessive bastard and that includes Tony only coming into contact with me and my things."

Bernstein looked disappointed, but Davies was nodding slightly, wearing a smirk. "I quite understand, Jethro. Take your boy home and give him a good fuck. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

Jethro wasted no more time, wrapping his hand round the lead that was still attached to Tony's collar and leading him through the now unlocked door, passed the bar and out into the cool night air.

He found the coolness refreshing, a way to clear his head a little, but he saw Tony shiver and reasoned that the shock would be making Tony feel the cold that much more. With that in mind, Gibbs gently tugged on the chain still wrapped round his hand and started them in the direction of his car. He surreptitiously watched Tony move and was pleased to see no obvious signs of pain in his gait, which he hoped meant there wasn't any tearing to contend with.

They reached the car and Gibbs unlocked the passenger side, settling Tony into the seat, before heading round to the driver's side. He pulled his phone out of his pocket on the short walk, but waited until he had got in and shut the door to dial. It was 'Thompson's' phone and not his own, so it didn't have his colleagues numbers stored. Truthfully, the whole point of him having this phone was so that it couldn't be traced to anyone at NCIS, but he couldn't wait until he got back to the safe house to make his call.

He dialled Kate's number, but got the engaged signal. He hung up angrily, slamming his empty hand against the steering wheel and swearing, "Dammit!" with more vehemence than was strictly necessary, but he had to get rid of the pent up anger somehow. His outburst made Tony flinch though, and Gibbs was immediately angry with himself. He needed to hold it together while Tony was so close to the edge. He could lose it later, once Tony was taken care of. "Sorry," he apologised, whilst thinking, 'What the hell? She'd better have a good explanation and not be gossiping!' he was again filled with anger at himself. He knew Kate wouldn't do that, not after hearing what was happening to Tony via the bug.

He took a few calming breaths and dialled McGee's number instead. It was answered on the second ring: "Jethro, what can I do for you?"

Gibbs blinked, taken aback by the cheerful and very unMcGee-like greeting. He had to give the young man credit, he'd obviously not discarded the idea of their conversation being monitored somehow, unlikely though it was. Still, Gibbs decided to go along with it, just in case. "Hi, Tim. I just wanted to check whether you'd remembered to record those programmes I asked you to?"

There was the slightest pause and then, "I did. Well, the first one anyway, the second's not started yet. Do you still want me to record it?" Gibbs smiled slightly; McGee had realised that Gibbs meant their bugs and wanted to know whether he should carry on taping. The probie was coming on nicely.

"No, you needn't bother. I'm on my way home now and should get in in time to watch it. Thanks though."

"No problem. I'll drop the tape round to you tomorrow sometime."

"That'd be great. Listen, have you spoken to Kate recently? I just tried calling her, but it was engaged."

"Ah, she's, er, here with me actually." Obviously McGee had picked up on his slight tone of annoyance, Gibbs thought. "Do you want to speak to her? She's on the phone with Donald at the moment, but I can get her to call you back."

Gibbs relaxed. He'd _known_ Kate wouldn't have been talking to anyone non-work-related, but it was still a weight off his mind to have it confirmed. "No, that's okay, we'll catch up sometime. Actually, I was going to call Donald myself later. Can you ask her to tell him that I've got something he might want to look at, if he wants to drop by sometime?"

"Sure, hang on a minute." Gibbs heard muffled voices as, presumably, McGee covered the mouthpiece of his phone with his hand. The sound cleared and a moment later McGee's voice came back, "She's passed the message on and says that Donald will be round soon and to have the bourbon ready."

Gibbs chuckled at that, then made himself exchange goodbye pleasantries, rather than his customary abrupt disconnection. He hung up at the same time that Tony murmured, "Jethro."

Tony had been staring out of the passenger door window since Gibbs had settled him in the seat and he'd assumed the younger man was simply zoned out, but glancing at him now, he saw that Tony's gaze was intent. He followed that look to where the front of the club turned the corner into a shadowed ally. He could just make out a figure standing against the wall and, squinting, he recognised it as Nemec. "How long's he been there?"

"Don't know. I wasn't exactly paying attention, but I caught his movement just now. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. You did good to spot him at all." As they spoke, Nemec stepped back and vanished into the darkness. He'd not been able to make out whether the man had had one of those directional mics, or was simply watching them, but maybe they'd not been so over-cautious in disguising their phone conversation after all.

"Can we go home now?" Tony asked quietly. Gibbs looked at him, but Tony didn't seem to realise he'd said anything, just carried on staring out of the window at the place where Nemec had been.

"We can," he said simply, starting the engine and beginning the short drive back to the safe house. He kept alternating his gaze between the road, the rear view mirror- to check for anyone tailing them, and Tony, who was still shivering intermittently. He turned the heater on and angled the vents in Tony's direction, getting a tiny smile in return.

He spotted a silver Toyota that could be following them, but he lost it with little effort, so it was difficult to tell if it was truly tailing them. It hadn't reappeared by the time he hit the automatic button for the garage door and drove into the small space, and no other car had seemed suspicious either.

Gibbs hit the button to close the door behind them, put the car in park and switched it off, then undid his seat belt. Tony hadn't moved, so Gibbs leaned across and undid his belt too. "We're here, Tony, you can get out now," he said gently.

Tony slowly turned his head to look at him with a small frown, then his expression cleared a little and he unfolded himself from the passenger seat. Gibbs got out and slammed his door, but saw that Tony had run out of steam again, stood next to the open door with a blank look on his face. Starting to get more concerned, Gibbs moved round the car until he could shut Tony's door, pressed the button on the key fob to lock the doors, then put a gentle hand in the small of Tony's back and steered him through the house to the living room, pausing only to unlock and re-lock the door from the garage to the house.

He gently urged Tony down onto the couch. "Just stay there a minute," he said, then went into the dining room and rifled the sideboard looking for spirits. He found a half full bottle of bourbon, unfortunately the cheap stuff, and retrieved two glass tumblers, then went back to Tony.

He found the younger man on his knees next to the couch he'd been left on. Gibbs frowned, puzzled as to why Tony had moved and struck by the unpleasant thought that maybe it hurt to sit down. Tony was still zoned, so Gibbs set the bottle and glasses down, cleared the magazines off the coffee table and moved it from under the window to where Tony was. He collected the liquor, poured two generous measures and set the bottle on the table.

"Tony, hey, come on drink this," he coaxed, holding one of the tumblers out. No response, so he tried a different tack. "DiNozzo!" This time Tony's head came up, so Gibbs offered the glass again and once more ordered Tony to drink.

Tony drank, tossing the whole lot back and grimacing. "God, boss, that stuff's awful," he gasped. Gibbs took his own large swallow and had to agree that Tony was right. It was definitely the cheap and nasty variety.

Still, "It got you to snap out of it at least," Gibbs pointed out.

Tony frowned, apparently not realising he'd been zoned out. He frowned harder when he looked round the room. "Why are we on the floor?" he asked.

"I was going to ask you that, DiNozzo. I left you sitting on the couch and came back a few minutes later to find you down here. I was worried it was because it hurt to sit down." The last was said hesitantly as Gibbs didn't really want to make Tony dwell on what had been done to him.

Tony stared at Gibbs for a moment, his look pensive, then he dropped his gaze to the carpet and said, "No, it doesn't hurt. I…I relaxed as much as I could…I let… Christ, Gibbs, I _let_ him do it to me!" Tony's voice had started of quiet, but the last sentence was agitated and shame-filled.

Gibbs wasn't going to let that go unprotested. He leant over and gave Tony a slap to the head, though not with as much force as usual. "Listen to me, Tony," he said, staring into the younger man's eyes intensely, "you did what you had to. It was going to happen regardless, so you did what you had to to minimise the trauma. If you want to place blame, blame Davies, blame the idiots who blew their cover, blame Keeffe for keeping the botched op quiet. Hell, blame me for not stopping it or taking your place."

Tony's head came up at that last one. "It's not your fault, Gibbs. You did what you could, making him use lube and a condom, stopping Bernstein from joining in. And there's no way Davies would've accepted Jethro Thompson taking the place of his sub in that situation. It would have blown our cover as quickly as refusing would've," he said vehemently.

Gibbs smiled faintly. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. I’ll stop blaming myself, if you stop trying to take responsibility."

Tony quirked his lips, not quite a smile, but close enough at this stage of the game. "Okay, deal."

Gibbs gave decisive nod and said, "Good. Now, what say we sit on the couch like normal people?" 'My knees can't take this hard floor,' he added silently, not about to let Tony in on his weakness.

They scrambled up and sat in silence on the couch, Gibbs trying to sit close enough to offer support, but not crowd Tony. The silence stretched and Gibbs wracked his brain over whether it was best to leave Tony to his thoughts or try to get him talking. He was about to say something when Tony suddenly leapt up. "Tony?" Gibbs queried.

"I need to write my report," Tony said.

"Christ, DiNozzo, I think it can wait until tomorrow."

"No, I need to do it while it's still fresh," Tony protested and Gibbs didn't think it wise to point out that it'd probably be fresh in Tony's mind for some time to come. Obviously Tony's brain was trying to cope by falling back into familiar work routines. Okay, Gibbs could work with that.

"Okay, but why don't you go take a shower first?"

Tony frowned again, an expression that was becoming all too frequent. "No, I need to wait 'til trace has been collected," he said.

Apparently Tony's brain was still struggling. "Tony, there isn't any trace to collect. He used a condom, if there were any fingerprints on you, they will have been smudged when you dragged those tight pants back up and any hairs on you only prove you've been in a room that Davies has been in at some stage," Gibbs pointed out as gently as he could.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have made him use a condom," Tony snapped, heading towards the other side of the room, where his laptop case stood next to the chair.

Gibbs blinked, shook his head and then ordered, "Tony, get your ass over here," saying "Tony!" more sharply when his first order was refused. Tony reluctantly moved to where Gibbs still sat on the couch and Gibbs gave him a sharp slap to the head when he was in range. "Don't be an idiot, DiNozzo. We got it all on tape and even if one microphone failed, it's unlikely they both would, so forgive me for not thinking it worth the risk to your health for a DNA sample! Now, go take that shower- as long and hot as you can- and put some more comfortable clothes on. Ducky will probably be here when you come down."

"I don't need Ducky, boss," Tony said a little defiantly, which Gibbs was pleased about, except for the fact that it was him that Tony was defying.

"DiNozzo, do as you're told!"

"Boss," Tony whined.

Gibbs stared at him for a moment, then said very slowly, "Shower. Now. And Ducky will do whatever he needs to when you come down."

Tony's eyes widened fractionally as he said, "Yes, boss," and took himself out of the room. Gibbs watched Tony leave and then stared at the doorway for a few moments longer.

He shook himself out of it and moved into the kitchen once he heard the shower start up, turning his attention to getting the coffee machine up and running, then heading back to the couch to wait for Ducky's arrival.

His wait was up about ten minutes later when the bell rang. He got up, checked the peep hole and opened the door with a, "Hey, Duck."

"Jethro," Ducky greeted as he stepped past Gibbs into the room. He cast a look round and then asked, "Where's Anthony?"

"I sent him up for a long shower about ten minutes ago. He probably won't be much longer now. How much did Kate tell you?"

~*~

Ducky thought back to his conversation with Kate earlier: "Caitlin was most distressed. She said something had happened to Tony and that I should meet you here, but that it would be best if I heard the details from you or Anthony himself. I'm assuming that you would have taken him to the hospital if it was serious, regardless of Anthony's protests."

As he spoke, he followed Jethro into the kitchen and watched the younger man take three mugs from one of the cupboards. He set them down by the coffee machine with more force than necessary then leant against the counter; head bowed and back to Ducky.

"Oh, it's serious, Duck, just not physically." The pain in Gibbs' voice had Ducky concerned.

"Jethro?"

"He raped him, Duck. The bastard raped him and I sat there and did nothing," Gibbs said in a strangled whisper.

He hadn't turned round and Duck was left to gape at tense shoulders and a stiff back. "Oh, Anthony," he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. He dealt with rape distressingly frequently in his job, but the victim was always dead, always a stranger and he'd long ago built an emotional distance from necessity. But this was different, this was a close friend, this was the irrepressible Tony DiNozzo.

He drew a breath and opened his eyes. Right this moment he couldn't do anything for Tony, but he could do something for Jethro. Out of all of them, Anthony would need Jethro to be strong the most, but Ducky knew that Jethro needed to release some of his own emotional turmoil in order to be there for Tony. Ducky also knew that he was one of the privileged few that Gibbs would allow to see his pain. With that in mind, Ducky said, "Nonsense, Jethro. I know you. I've known you for a good many years. There's no way you would allow any harm to come to Anthony if there was a way to prevent it. Even if it cost you your own life." Of course, Jethro would give his life for any of his friends, but Anthony was special. He'd seen the way they felt for each other, even if his two younger friends had yet to realise it themselves.

"Now, tell me the rest of it. What made you sit there and stay still?"

Gibbs was silent for a long moment, but Ducky knew that he just had to wait Jethro out and sure enough, it was grudgingly revealed that, "They had a guy on the door, another guy with a gun and Tony was…" a deep breath, "Tony was tied down, wrists and ankles."

"So, there was no way you could liberate Anthony and get through the door without getting one or both of you shot?" Ducky clarified.

"No," Jethro admitted, though he still sounded pained.

"Young Anthony will need you to be strong for him, so enough of this blame nonsense. There's no one to blame but the man who did this."

"No, there are others to blame, Ducky."

"Jethro," Ducky said, exasperated. Hadn't they just gone over this?

"No, Duck, there really are. Keeffe neglected to mention that he'd already sent two of his guys in and that they'd blown their cover and made Davies more suspicious of the authorities trying to get someone close to him. Tonight was a test to see if I was a genuine buyer. The theory being that I wouldn't allow my sub to be used like that if I was a cop, but they had that gun and Davies had made it clear what he'd do if we turned out to be undercover."

"Bloody idiot," Ducky said vehemently. "Then by all means blame him, but no more of this self blame, Jethro. I mean it! Or do I have to come over there and give you a clip round the ear?"

"I'd pay to see that," Tony's voice came from behind him. Ducky didn't jump. Long years of friendship with Jethro had inured him to sneaky appearances by people. Instead, he calmly turned to face the new arrival, catching Jethro spinning round out of the corner of his eye.

"Anthony, my boy," he greeted as he gave Tony a quick once over. Not that he could see much as Tony was dressed in sweats and a soft grey jumper that was obviously an old favourite, as it looked like a few more washes would see it disintegrating. Ducky's eyebrow rose as he caught sight of the purple leather collar around Tony's neck, but Tony spoke before he could.

"Hey, Ducky. You shouldn't have come out so late. I'm fine."

"I'm quite capable of getting around in the dark, Anthony. Besides, Kate didn't tell me what had happened and what sort of injuries I might be dealing with."

"Then I wish you'd called ahead. I could've told you that I'm not injured. I'm sure Gibbs has filled you in by now; there's nothing for you to fix."

Ducky sighed. One day Tony would understand that, after an accident, Ducky came to see _Tony_ and not Tony's injuries. It was obviously not that day yet. Fortunately, Jethro took that moment to join the conversation.

"We talked about this, DiNozzo. You were going to shower and then Ducky was going to check you out."

"Yeah, but I've been in the shower now, boss, and I would've noticed anything that needed Ducky's attention. Really, I'm fine."

"While you're wearing my collar, you'll do as I say!" Gibbs snapped.

"Jethro," Ducky warned. He suspected that Tony hadn't realised he was wearing the collar when his eyes widened and his hand strayed to his throat. The young man didn't need Jethro snapping at him.

Anthony rallied, however. "It's not you collar, Gibbs!"

Predictably, Jethro ignored his warning and carried on in the same harsh tone as he responded with, "Technically no, but it's a sign of submission, DiNozzo, and you sure as hell aren't submitting to yourself- it doesn't work that way."

"Abby wears her collar everyday and she's not a sub!"

"Abby's a Goth, you aren't. Abby wears her collar everyday, you don't. Abby's not on an undercover mission playing my sub, you are." Anthony's eyes had widened at each statement and Ducky was becoming concerned that Jethro was taking things too far, but then Jethro moved until he was only inches away from Anthony and rested his hand against Tony's face, before continuing in a gentler tone.

"It's okay, Tony. I get it. You've had a bad couple of hours and your brain needs to shut down for a while, so you need someone else to make your decisions for you." He used the hand on Tony's face to pull him in until their foreheads were touching. "It's okay, Tony. Trust me to take care of you until your brain’s ready to switch back on."

Ducky took in the unusually close physical contact that Jethro had initiated and the utterly trusting look in Anthony's eyes and realised he'd been wrong earlier. They clearly had addressed their feelings for one another to some degree. Ducky felt another wave of sadness over what had happened to Anthony and what it might mean for this budding relationship.

When Tony nodded fractionally against Jethro's forehead, Jethro slip his hand down and gave a quick squeeze of reassurance to Tony's neck, then said, "Good boy. I want you to go through to the living room and wait for Ducky." Another squeeze and he stepped back. Anthony looked bereft for a moment, then gathered himself and headed through the door behind him.

Jethro pulled the door closed and turned to Ducky. "Something you want to say, Duck?"

Ducky regarded his friend, detecting the slight hint of nervousness that most people would miss. "I had been going to say that the last thing Tony needed was you being harsh, but that has been superceeded by my desire to ask whether you have finally spoken to each other about your mutual attraction. It reminds me of a couple I knew some years back. Of course, I say 'couple', but it took many years-"

"What do you mean 'finally'?" Gibbs interrupted.

"Exactly what I said, Jethro. The two of you may have been blind, but I most certainly was not. You have had feelings for each other for a good while. As I said, it reminds me of Jeffery and Margaret, two dear friends of mine who spent many a year obliviously pining away for each other until I finally had to speak up. It-"

"I don't want to think about all the time I've wasted right now, Duck, not when it may be all the time I'll get. Tony may want nothing to do with me after this."

It looked like he was never going to get to finish his story, but Ducky could certainly sympathise with Jethro's fears. "You must have more faith in yourself and in young Anthony, Jethro," he said, clasping Gibbs' upper arm reassuringly. "From what I witnessed a moment ago, you still hold Tony's complete trust. I will caution you to be careful, though. In his current state of mind, Anthony will be very suggestible."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed, the blue becoming steely as he growled, "Are you suggesting I'd take advantage of him?"

"Don't be so foolish, Gibbs!" Ducky admonished. "I merely meant that the boy is sensitive to your approval, or lack thereof, at the best of times and that he's much more likely to take any hint of disappointment to heart in his current state. He's liable to try all sorts of things to get you approval and you need to balance carefully between taking things further than Anthony's truly ready to go and denying him too much and causing him to spiral down into depression. Now, shall we get this over with before Anthony has the chance to worry about everything too much?"

"Of course, Duck, after you," Jethro answered, indicating the doorway with a nod of his head.

Ducky pushed open the door and made his way through the dining room and into the living room. He was saddened to see his young friend huddled at the far end of the couch, hands clasped between his thighs and head down, looking very dejected.

"Now then, Anthony," he said as he collected his doctors bag and extracted the ubiquitous pen light- seemingly beloved of doctors everywhere. He approached carefully, before shining the light into Anthony's eyes and checking their reactions. "Are you feeling cold, my boy?" he asked as he noted happily that the pupil reactions were even and quick.

"A little," Anthony admitted. 'So, it could still be mild shock, even if his eyes were normal,' Ducky mused.

"Very well. Can you take off your sweater for me please?" Ducky asked, stepping back to give Anthony room to move his arms. He frowned as Tony did no more than pull the sleeves further down his arms, so that only the tips of his fingers remained uncovered, whilst shaking his head and hunching up again.

"Nothing happened to me there, Ducky, why do I have to take it off?" he asked in a small voice.

Ducky was angered all over again by what had happened to Tony, causing the man who usually craved any kind of touch to recoil at even the idea. "Your feeling cold could be a sign of shock, Anthony, and I want to listen to your heart to make sure it's beating properly." He could see that Tony was becoming anxious and quickly decided on a different course. "We'll start off simple. Jethro tells me that your wrists were bound, so I'd like to check them."

"They were padded," Tony replied, still trying to avoid any touch.

"They _were_ padded, DiNozzo, but you fought them hard," Gibbs spoke up for the first time, causing both men to jump. Ducky had forgotten Jethro was lurking against the wall, so focused had he been on Tony, and who knew what was going on in Anthony's head right at that moment.

Ducky acknowledged Jethro with a glance, then focused back on Tony again. "Let me see your wrists, my boy. You only need to roll your sleeves up and you can do it one at a time," Ducky coaxed.

Tony's gaze flicked to Gibbs and Ducky presumed he got some sort of affirmative signal as, a moment later, the right sleeve was drawn up and the arm held out for inspection. Ducky moved slowly, making sure Tony saw as he reached to lightly grasp his arm to hold it steady. He ignored the slight flinch and carefully examined Tony's wrist. It was a little swollen and reddened, but the skin hadn't broken and it would only be a faint bruise that formed.

He told Anthony his findings and repeated the procedure with his left wrist, coming to the same conclusion.

Now came the next hurdle. "You're doing very well so far, Anthony, but I really do need to listen to your heart. I tell you what; do you think you can just lift your sweater instead of removing it?"

Ducky gave Tony time to consider the request, making no move to hurry him and he smiled at the younger man when his patience was rewarded and Tony slowly inched the garment upwards. His smile was largely wasted, however, as Anthony only glanced at him briefly before staring at the floor.

Ducky stifled a gasp. He understood why Tony had been so reluctant to uncover his torso now- a large bruise was already purpling his lower abdomen, disappearing under the waistband of his sweats. Ducky guessed it was caused by Tony being repeatedly pressed into the edge of whatever he was cuffed to by his rapist's thrusts. This was the first real sign of what had happened to Anthony that Ducky had seen. After all, the young man seemed to get himself tied or cuffed by the wrists pretty routinely, so that was nothing Ducky hadn't seen and patched up before. This bruise, however, wasn't so easy to distance himself from and he took a moment to compose himself before slowly reaching out, intending to palpate the area to see if there was anything worse than the bruise to contend with.

His hand never made contact, batted away by Tony, who quickly pulled his jumper back down to cover himself. It wasn't a painful or violent move by Tony, and Ducky was half expecting something anyway, but he backed up a step to give Tony some space.

He must have appeared to be backing off out of fear, because Anthony's wary expression crumpled to be replaced by shame, a very quiet, "Sorry, Ducky," following.

"Nonsense, Anthony, you've nothing to apologise for. I understand that this is a difficult thing for you to go through. I do need to assess that bruise, however, and I've still got to check your heart rate."

Again Ducky gave Tony space to think about it, not hugely surprise when the man's eyes once again sought out Gibbs where he stood off to the side; clearly hoping he'd do what he'd offered earlier and make the decision for him. Ducky looked to his old friend too, waiting to see what he'd do.

They didn't have to wait long before Gibbs moved from his place in the background, stepping to the side of the couch and perching on the high arm next to Tony's right shoulder. He rested his hand on Tony's neck, the very tip of his little finger edging under the collar and Ducky watched as Tony took a shuddering breath and forced himself to relax, leaning into Jethro's touch.

"That's it, Tony, just relax and let Ducky do this. You know he won't hurt you and it'll help us stop worrying so much once we know you're not hurt worse than we think," Jethro coaxed. Anthony took another deep breath, this one not so shuddery, then reached down and lifted the hem of his jumper once again.

"That's good, Anthony," Ducky praised. "I'm just going to press the area and need you to tell me, truthfully mind you, whether it hurts." He put actions to words and gently but firmly felt the bruised area with his fingers, trying to feel any hardened areas that would indicate internal bleeding. He didn't feel anything beyond what he'd expect for the bruising and it was confirmed when he asked Tony.

"It was a little tender, but nothing worse than other bruises I've had," was his reply.

"Good, good. Now comes the stethoscope," Ducky said, reaching into his bag for the instrument and warming the metal disc, before pressing it to Anthony's chest for several seconds. "Deep breath for me, Anthony. Hold it. Good, now let it out slowly." He returned the stethoscope to his bag and informed Tony, "A little fast, but that's preferable to it being slow, which would have indicated worse shock. You can cover up again now." Ducky wasn't concerned by the elevated heart rate. In all likelihood it was brought on by Ducky's own examination.

Now came the hard part. Ducky guessed Anthony knew what was coming by the way he pulled the hem of his sweater down as far as possible, then drew his legs up to his chest, until only his toes were left hanging off the seat cushion. Not that it was difficult to work out what was left for him to examine. Deciding it was best to just get it out there, Ducky said, "Now then, Anthony. I need to check you for tearing."

"There isn't any, Ducky," came the quiet response.

"I just want to--"

"You don't believe me!" Tony accused. He had been resolutely staring at his knees, but now he raised narrowed eyes to Ducky.

"It's not that I don't believe you--"

Again he was cut off by a retort from Tony. "It sure sounds like it to me!"

"Hey, easy," Gibbs reprimanded gently. Ducky couldn't be sure from where he stood, but he suspected Jethro had given Anthony's neck a grounding squeeze as he spoke, because Tony gave a slight shiver and leant fractionally closer. He dropped his gaze again and apologised.

"Not to worry, Jethro," Ducky said, before returning his attention to his young friend. "No need to apologise, Tony, my lad. Things are understandably fraught at the moment. Now, as I was saying, it's not that I don't believe you. I don't believe you would lie to me. I do, however, know that you quite often disregard your injuries. I've not yet figured out whether it's because you have a high pain tolerance, don't want to appear weak in some way, simply don't feel worthy enough of getting treatment, or some other reason entirely. I sometimes think you would tell me you were fine if you were stood before me with a limb hanging by a thread! So, no, I don't think you are lying to me now, but I do want to check that you aren't simply ignoring something. I don't suppose I have to tell you that any tears in the anal walls would very easily become infected if left untreated, and that would be even more unpleasant."

Anthony looked miserable and a little frightened, which was disconcerting for Ducky as he was simply unused to seeing such an expression on his friend's face. Deciding to give Tony a little space to think about things, he sat down on the coffee table directly behind him. He had a moment of worry as the table creaked under his weight, but it held firm and he relaxed.

A moment later, he was very glad to be sat down, because Anthony exploded from the couch- Gibbs' hand falling away from Tony's neck to land with a slap against his thigh where it rested on the arm of the couch- and would've crashed into Ducky had he still been standing. Anthony was only there for a second, however, before he strode quickly over to the window. Ducky recognised the long, tense strides as a frustrated desire to run, knowing that that was how Anthony usually chose to overcome his problems, or at least gain perspective on them.

Ducky adjusted his seat on the coffee table so that he could still see Anthony without twisting, but made no other move. He caught Jethro shifting from the corner of his eye and was all set to hold up a stalling hand when he realised that, now Tony wasn’t leaning against them, the sofa cushions had slumped a little under Gibbs’ weight and he was simply securing his seat. Jethro must have known what Ducky had been preparing to do, however, as he gave him a look that translated to something like ‘give me some credit’. Ducky gave an apologetic half-shrug, but most of his attention was still focused on Tony.

The young man was still for several minutes, staring out of the window, or at nothing at all. Suddenly he slammed the flat of his hand against the wall next to the window with such force that Ducky knew there’d be bruises. He watched as Tony curled the hand into a loose fist and then banged the fleshy side against the wall a few times, less forcefully than before. “I hate this!” Tony said at last.

“Quite understandable, my boy. What that man did to you-“

He was interrupted by Tony: “No, not that. Well, yeah, obviously I hated that, but I mean this, right now.”

Ducky thought he understood it this time, “Granted, it won’t be pleasant, but I’ll be as quick as I can-“

Again Tony interrupted, “No, that’s not- You still don’t-“ He hissed a frustrated breath through his teeth and tried again: “I mean that I hate how he’s made me feel about you, Duck. No, even that’s not right.” Ducky stayed silent, letting Anthony search for the words he needed. The young man shifted slightly and, where before the room light had cast Anthony as a silhouette against the window and the night beyond, now it hit in such a way that Ducky could see a partial reflection of Tony’s frustrated expression.

“It’s… I _know_ you, Duck. You’ve touched me a lot over the last few years. Not as intimately, sure, but you’ve had your hands on most of me at some point. I know you won’t hurt me. I trust you, Ducky. I _do_ ,” and here he paused again. Ducky used that moment to reflect on Tony’s confession. He knew that it took far more effort for Tony to really trust someone than he made it appear, and to have it spoken aloud, with a witness, was truly noteworthy. But then Anthony was speaking again and Ducky put aside the thought for later. He’d obviously given up on trying to find the words, because he finished his explanation with: “There’s just… _something_ … stopping me from saying ‘yeah, okay, let’s get on with it’.”

He finally turned round and Ducky saw that the frustration was tempered by anxiety. “I hate feeling…out of control!”

“You’re doing good, DiNozzo,” Jethro spoke up for the first time in awhile and Tony jumped slightly, almost as if he’d forgotten his boss was there.

“Jethro’s quite right, Anthony, you’re doing admirably.”

Tony huffed a derisive laugh, “Yeah, sure. I feel like a teenage girl, about to burst into tears any minute now!”

“Come on, Tony; you worked vice, you’ve seen this from the other side. How did people you spoke to who’d been raped behave? Machismo has no place here; this is too fundamental an issue for you to hide behind other people’s expectations. You feel what you feel and no one’s got a say in it.”

Tony was watching Jethro as he spoke, the frustration and anxiety leaving his features somewhat, though he wouldn’t meet the older man’s eyes. Ducky felt that they were nearly there, but he had one more point to raise to try to make things as easy for Tony as possible, though he suspected he knew what the young man’s answer would be.

“I promise you, Anthony, that I’ll be as quick and clinical as I can. And it is entirely up to you whether Jethro stays or leaves.”

Tony had shifted his gaze Ducky’s way when he started speaking, but now his eyes snapped back to Jethro. “Stay?” he asked, then his eyes widened and he rushed on, “I mean, you don’t have to. I can understand that you might not want-“

“Sure, Tony, I’ll stay,” Jethro interrupted and Tony took a breath.

“Okay. Okay, Ducky, how are we doing this?”

Ducky gave the logistics a moment of contemplation, before saying, “If you kneel up on the sofa, facing the wall, that should do it.”

“Okay,” Tony said again. He drew in a steadying breath, looked up and… didn’t move.

Ducky watched Tony, unsure how to get the younger man moving. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Jethro shifting his position, moving from the corner of the couch to sit on the back, feet planted on the seat cushions and legs apart.

“Come here, Tony,” he said gently, but Tony still didn’t move, so he tried again, this time with a bit more command into his tone. “Don’t make me come and fetch you, DiNozzo.”

Tony shook himself slightly, shaking off the daze he’d been in, before starting to move across the room with halting steps. He eventually reached the couch and stood staring at it a moment, before raising his gaze to Jethro’s.

“Come here,” Gibbs said again and Ducky was relieved to see Tony kneel on the cushions in the space between Jethro’s legs. Jethro rewarded him with a small smile, cupping his face with one hand. “This okay?” he asked.

Tony nodded and Gibbs shot a quick glance at Ducky, before prompting: “Okay, pants down, Tony.”

“Jethro,” Ducky warned, not wanting Anthony pushed into anything too fast.

“It’s okay, Duck. Tony wanted me to do his thinking for him and I am.” Nevertheless, Ducky saw Jethro’s other hand come up to rest in the junction of Anthony’s neck and shoulder, thumb resting against the collar. Tony took a shuddering breath, then quickly pushed his sweatpants down, as if afraid he’d lose his nerve if he moved slowly.

“Good, Tony,” Gibbs soothed and gave a small squeeze to Tony’s neck.

Ducky quickly pulled on a latex glove and picked up a tube of lubricant from his bag, ignoring the slight flinch Tony gave as the glove snapped against his wrist. “You’re doing fine, my boy. I’m going to put my hand against your shoulder now and I’ll move down slowly so it isn’t quite such a shock.”

Suiting actions to words, Ducky laid his gloved hand against Tony’s shoulder blade. Anthony’s hands had been hanging by his sides, almost as if he hadn’t known what to do with them after releasing the hem of his trousers. At Ducky’s touch they flew upwards and clutched at the corners of Gibbs’ button-up shirt where they lay on his thighs.

Jethro shifted his grip on Tony’s shoulder, sliding his hand further round onto Tony’s neck and using it to pull his head forwards until his forehead was pressed against Jethro’s chest. Gibbs then curled downwards enough to be able to whisper reassurances in Anthony’s ear.

Satisfied, Ducky steadily, but firmly moved his hand downwards until he reached the bottom of Tony’s sweater. “Anthony, I need you to move back a little and widen your stance,” he requested. Tony whimpered, but did as asked, shuffling his knees back until they were almost at the edge of the cushion and his head was pressed against the middle of Jethro’s body. Jethro hunched over even more so that he could continue his quiet words.

The position looked uncomfortable for both men, so Ducky made as much haste as he dared. He took a look at Tony’s anus, finding it reddened and somewhat swollen, but with no obvious tears. That was a relief, but now came the hard part. He waved the tube of lubricant at Jethro, warning him and getting a small nod in return. It was awkward getting the gel onto his finger without losing the contact with Tony’s back, but he managed it without too much delay, giving a quick warning, before moving his hand downwards onto skin for the first time. He ignored Tony’s flinch, keeping the same steady speed until he could rest his gel-covered finger against the tight ring of muscle.

Here he paused for a moment, allowing Tony to accept the slight pressure, before he tried for more. Jethro’s hand moved to Anthony’s back and took up a soothing circular motion when the young man whimpered.

“You’re doing well, Anthony. Brace yourself now, but try to stay relaxed for me.” Ducky took a steadying breath and then pushed against the resistance. His finger pushed inside to the first knuckle, but then Tony made a harsh noise and tensed up, so Ducky held still.

“Easy, Tony, easy,” Jethro soothed.

“Just relax for me. Let’s get this over with,” Ducky added. He almost wished Tony was torn inside, so that he hadn’t put him through this trauma for nothing. He berated himself for a silly old fool a moment later. Knowing for sure that there were no tears going untreated and potentially becoming infected was just as valuable as finding any lesions.

Tony finally relaxed, the pressure around his finger abating and allowing him to push in the rest of the way. He twisted his finger round, feeling for any abnormalities, being as quick and clinical as he could whilst still being thorough. Heaven forbid he had to do this again because he’d been too hasty the first time.

Eventually satisfied, Ducky withdrew his finger and announced, “All clear. Well done, Anthony. You can relax and get dressed now.” He watched Tony pull up his sweats with a haste similar to when he’d taken the down. He pulled off the glove, turning it inside-out as he did so in order to keep the lubricant from getting all over everything, then he repacked his bag.

As he did that, he heard Jethro say, “Move back so I can get down and we can get comfortable.” There was a brief shuffling and when Ducky turned back round having closed his bag, Jethro was sat in the corner of the couch- finally on the seat cushion- with Tony pressed against his side, legs drawn up to the side of him and Jethro’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

Ducky moved to the chair against the dining room wall. The coffee table was hard and uncomfortable and the chair by the window was at the wrong angle for Jethro and Tony to see Ducky without getting cricked necks.

He took a moment to reflect on how natural his two friends looked cuddled up. It was a side not many people saw from either man, even as tactile as Anthony was. He truly hoped they could get Tony through the emotional fallout with their relationship prospects still intact.

His thoughts turned to the case and he asked, “Will you telephone Morrow tonight to tell him the operation’s off?”

“No!” Tony said. It wasn’t quite a shout, but it was certainly forceful. He also pushed away from Gibbs’ shoulder so that he could stare between the two older men. His eyes had a wild look to them as he continued: “You can’t…Gibbs, you can’t. You have to tell him-“

“Hey, hey! Take a breath, Tony, and start again,” Jethro soothed, shooting a concerned look at Ducky, who could only shrug in bewilderment.

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath, held it, took another. He let the second breath out and opened his eyes, which Ducky was pleased to see showed less wildness.

“You can’t call off the operation, boss. I need to see Davies and his gang taken down. He _raped_ me and I can’t let that be for nothing.”

Ducky caught the minor hesitation before Anthony said ‘raped’, but he was pleased that the young man hadn’t avoided the word. He was no psychologist, but he knew that half the problem for rape victims was admitting what had happened to them. Only once they accepted what had been done could they start to move on and Ducky was relieved that Tony seemed to be over that hurdle at least. He just hoped Anthony could do the job. Before he could ask any questions, though, Jethro beat him to it.

“Can you do it, Tony?” he asked, holding up a silencing hand when Tony’s mouth opened to protest. “No, listen. Can you go back to that club later tonight and get in a car with Davies? Can you stop from punching his lights out if he so much as looks at you? Because it’s within my cover to tell him to keep his hands off what’s mine, but you have to be able to keep from reacting in a way that a sub wouldn’t or our cover will be blown there and then and we’ll lose our chance at them.”

‘Not to mention lose their lives’, Ducky thought to himself. He saw Tony open his mouth to instantly answer Jethro’s question, but he stepped in, saying: “Think about what Jethro’s saying, Anthony, don’t simply give the answer you think he wants.”

Tony’s jaw snapped shut again and he shot a vaguely guilty, vaguely irritated glance Ducky’s way. But he did think about it. He looked down, contemplating his bent knee. He didn’t look up when he finally answered.

“I can do it, Gibbs…aslongasyoukeeptouchingme.” The last was rapid and mumbled and it took Ducky a while to parse it. He guessed Jethro had also managed to work it out when a hand moved to squeeze the knee that Anthony was still resolutely staring at.

“I can do that, DiNozzo. It’s hardly a chore,” he said gently.

It was as if Tony’s strings had been cut; his whole body relaxed and he settled against Jethro’s side with a relieved smile. The smile didn’t last long, as a jaw-cracking yawn overtook Tony’s face. He apologised sheepishly, but Gibbs shushed him. “It’s been a long day, Tony. Why don’t you head upstairs while I see Ducky out?”

“Sorry for making you come out so late, Ducky,” Tony apologised again.

“Nonsense, Anthony. It doesn’t matter what time it is when one of my friends needs me. Why it reminds me of a friend I had back in Edinburgh. He once called me out to see him three nights in a row, all no earlier than 3am.”

He realised this was another story he wouldn’t get to tell when Anthony’s face split in another huge yawn- promptly followed by his third apology in as many minutes.

“You still here, DiNozzo?” Gibbs reproved gently.

“No, boss,” Tony replied, hauling himself up and heading for the door with a “Night, Ducky,” flung over his shoulder.

“Goodnight, my boy,” Ducky replied. He and Jethro stood and moved towards the front door. Ducky stopped Jethro just as his hand touched the catch to open the front door. “Keep an eye on him, Jethro. Don’t push him.” At Jethro’s scowl, he amended, “I know you won’t do it on purpose, but don’t let him push himself and talk you into something he’s not ready for. You know how persuasive he can be when he wants. And make sure you call the others tonight.”

“Come on, Ducky, it’s the middle of the night.”

“Nonetheless. Morrow will certainly wait until the morning, but young Caitlin and Timothy heard everything that happened to Tony and it’s arguable that that was harder than watching what was going on, because at least you could see it, but they’ve only had their own imaginations to go on and I’m sure they’ve imagined some terrible things. They won’t be sleeping until they know Anthony’s alright.”

“Okay, I’ll call Kate and McGee, but Abby will wait ‘til morning.”

“I would advise you to call her now, Jethro. Quite apart from the fact that she may already have spoken to Caitlin or Timothy, put yourself in her place and imagine how well you would take being left out of the loop on something like this.”

“Fine, I’ll call Abs too,” Jethro gave in with his usual bad grace.

“Good. I suppose, if you are continuing with the operation, it would be unwise for me to come over later to see how he’s doing?”

“Probably best you didn’t, Duck. I don’t think they’ve got anyone watching the house, but there’s no point risking it.”

“Very well. You know where I am if you need me.”

With a nod and a thank you, Jethro finally opened the door and Ducky stepped out into the cool air.

*~*

Gibbs stood in the doorway and watched until Ducky was in his car and driving away. He took a moment to reflect on how Ducky wasn’t _just_ the ME. After all, how many other coroners would think to get a car from the undercover pool, one that had a safe cover if anyone should try to trace it, before going to visit undercover agents on such short notice? Gibbs had known Ducky for more than 10 years, but there was still a lot he didn’t know about his friend.

He watched until Ducky turned the corner, then took a quick look round, trying to spot any possible surveillance. He didn’t see anyone, so there either wasn’t anyone to see, or they were really good. Gibbs preferred to think it was the first option.

Gibbs shut the front door and locked it, then leaned his forehead against the cool metal, eyes closed, palms flat on either side of his head. He stood like that for a few moments, then pushed away with a sigh, heading back into the living room. There, he double checked the lock on the window, pulled the curtains shut and switched the light off as he headed into the dining room. He repeated the procedure and moved into the kitchen.

Gibbs pulled the blind, but didn’t leave straight away. Instead he turned his attention to the coffee machine. The timer was set for his usual 6am (he always set it for six, hoping to sleep that late, but often found himself waking earlier and having to reset it. He never quite gave up hope, though). He checked his watch- 3am- grimaced and decided to set it to come on at a later time. They didn’t have to go to the office and the undercover work didn’t start until late, so it wouldn’t hurt to get a lie in, to get more than a few hours sleep. Besides, he wasn’t sure how Tony would do during the night. Hell, he wasn’t sure how _he_ would get through the night! He set the timer for 9am.

Gibbs grimaced again; 3am, but he imagined Ducky was right (when was he not?) and Todd and McGee would be waiting for news on Tony. He also knew that Abby really would be upset if she was kept in the dark until later on simply out of concern for her being asleep.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, took a deep breath and hit the speed dial for Kate’s number.

*~*

Kate’s phone rang and she exchanged an apprehensive look with McGee and Abby. She and McGee had taken the surveillance vehicle back to headquarters and decided to stick together until they heard how Tony was. They’d also decided that Abby should be told what had happened straight away and had gone to her house after checking to see if she was still in the lab or not. Now they sat in Abby’s living room, Kate on a comfy chair and Abby cuddled into McGee on the couch. Kate briefly wished she could take comfort from McGee like that, but she knew that with all the effort she’d put into making herself ‘one of the boys’, she’d only succeed in making both herself and Tim uncomfortable. Maybe she could get a hug from Abby later on.

Kate snatched up her phone, checked the caller ID and had answered the phone before the second ring had died away. “Gibbs, how’s Tony?” she demanded, not even bothering with the usual opening pleasantries. Before Gibbs could reply she added, “Wait, let me put you on speaker so that McGee and Abby can hear you,” hitting the button to do just that.

“McGee and Abby are there with you? Good, that saves me having to say all of this more than once tonight.

“Physically Tony’s fine. Ducky’s just left after checking him out and there’re just a few bruises.”

“You said ‘physically’; what about mentally?” Abby questioned with a worried voice.

Gibbs sighed. “I don’t really know, Abs. One moment he’s zoned out in shock, the next he’s angry, or apologetic.”

“What’s he got to be apologetic for?” Abby again, this time confused.

“He flinched away from Ducky a few times during the exam,” Gibbs replied.

Kate thought that was quite reasonable considering, but Abby once again beat her, demanding, “You told him it wasn’t his fault, right?”

“Of course I did, Abby! We kept telling him not to worry about it; Ducky kept telling him he wasn’t offended by it. And the worst thing was that, with all that going on in his head, he kept telling me that it wasn’t _my_ fault!”

“Did you believe him?” Kate asked. So far it had been Jethro talking to them, letting some of the emotion come through, possibly unconsciously. As Kate waited for an answer, she wondered if it would still be Jethro, or whether Agent Gibbs would come back to the fore. The question hung there long enough that she started to wonder if she’d get any reply at all, sharing bemused looks with Abby and McGee. Eventually, though, there was a sigh and she knew it was still Jethro talking to them.

“Did I believe him that it wasn’t my fault? Yes. Did that stop me from feeling guilty about not being able to stop it? No.”

Kate marvelled at how open Gibbs was being with his own feelings. She wondered whether it was simply the lateness of the hour or, more likely, the unusual circumstances had hit him harder than maybe even he knew.

“Boss, can you tell Tony that we’re sorry we heard what was happening, please?” McGee spoke up for the first time, sounding a little nervous.

“He knows, McGee,” Gibbs reassured.

“I just wanted to make sure. You know Tony- he hates any of us to see him weak and now three of us have.”

“DiNozzo is _not_ weak, McGee!” Gibbs’ voice was deadly. Kate’s own scowl was pretty fierce and she snapped her head up in time to see Abby pull away from McGee’s side and punch him in the arm. Hard.

“Ow!” McGee exclaimed with a glare of his own, as he rubbed his shoulder. “ _I_ know he’s not weak, guys, but does Tony know it? You all know what he’s like; how he thinks things make him look bad or weak when he wouldn’t think it about others in the same situation.”

It was true enough and Kate relaxed, giving McGee a small smile and a nod. She watched Abby settle against his shoulder once again, resting her head there with a quiet, “Nice save, McGee.”

“So what now?” Kate queried.

“It’s 3am, Kate, get some sleep.”

“That’s not what I meant, Gibbs,” Kate said, adding mentally ‘and you know it.’

“It’s what _I_ meant, Kate. Get some sleep, because you and McGee have got to go to the office later today and then sit surveillance again tonight.”

The three exchanged glances, but it was Abby who voiced the question: “You’re not making him go back in are you? You can’t let it happen again, Gibbs!”

“I didn’t _let_ it happen in the first place, Abby, and I’m certainly not forcing him to go back; it was Tony’s idea!” The response was growled, but Kate heard the underlying hurt and disappointment. She could see his point- Gibbs could be called many things, a lot of them unpleasant, but he couldn’t be called unfeeling and he couldn’t be called cruel. There was no way he’d make _anybody_ go into that situation, let alone a member of his team, and especially not Tony.

The Gibbs/DiNozzo relationship fascinated the profiler in Kate, mainly because she couldn’t quite quantify it. It was something she thought about often when the case load was light enough that she had time to watch their interactions at the office. Tony was a confusing and complicated man and Gibbs, although he seemed quite straightforward on the surface, had a lot of hidden depths once you started to look.

However, there wasn’t time to think about it right then and Kate focused her attention back onto the conversation as a contrite Abby said, “Sorry, bossman, bad choice of words.”

“Anything you’d like to add, Agent Todd?” Gibbs queried in a tone that implied she’d make it three-for-three in the ‘putting your foot in it’ category.

“Is Tony in the right frame of mind to be making this sort of decision?” was what she went with after some thought, sure that it couldn’t be seen as some sort of slight.

Gibbs sighed. “I hope so, Kate. He wants Davies and his gang taken down, he wants what happened to him to not be for nothing, which it would be if we pulled out now. He needs to feel in control again, so I don’t want to tell him no if I can avoid it. I’ve asked him if he can go back into a room with that lowlife and act like Tony Schofield and not Tony DiNozzo. He says he can.”

“But he can’t be completely sure until he’s back in that situation,” Kate pointed out.

“I know, but he won’t be going in alone and I’ll be keeping a close eye on him and will hopefully also give him something to ground himself with. At least my cover allows me to stop anyone touching him again. Once was enough to establish trustworthiness and no one else gets to lay a hand on what’s mine! He’s still got time to change his mind, but I suggest you two go and get ready for more surveillance tonight.”

There were a chorus of affirmatives and Gibbs promptly hung up without saying goodbye, leaving the three to sit in silent contemplation for a few minutes. Eventually McGee spoke up: “Well, I guess we should get home and grab some sleep while we can.”

“You should both stay here,” Abby said. “It’s gone three now, and by the time you get home and settled, it’s going to be after 4am. I’ve got a spare bed and a couch, so you may as well stay here and get an extra half hour.”

Kate and McGee exchanged a glance and McGee said, “I’ll take the couch.”

Decision made, they set about gathering pillows and sheets and then using the bathroom. Kate was glad that she always kept a basic toiletry set in her gear just in case.

As she settled under the covers of Abby’s spare bed, her thoughts once again returned to her two teammates and their relationship…

On paper it shouldn’t work: Gibbs had no patience for fools or liars. Kate didn’t believe for one moment that Tony was the fool he pretended to be, but that meant he was, if not outright lying, at least not being completely honest. So, however it was looked at, Tony should be in Gibbs’ bad books.

Then there were the head slaps to consider. To her way of thinking, the head slaps Gibbs used on Tony were almost like something she’d expect for a particularly precocious child- she had felt demeaned the few times she’d received one, and she only got a head slap when she’d done something particularly stupid. Tony was an adult; by all rights he could have Gibbs up on charges, but he seemed to go out of his way to provoke Gibbs on purpose. The only time he truly seemed surprised to get a head slap was when he’d worried Gibbs by doing something risky. He always seemed unable to accept worry about himself.

Kate thought that was a strange contradiction, because the only logical reason to keep inviting and giving the head slaps was affection, which naturally included worry for each other. Plus, Tony worried about Gibbs, and not because he didn’t think he could take care of himself.

It highlighted Tony’s complexities. On the face of it Tony was confident, had a huge ego, was a playboy and a frat boy, with a different girl all the time, but really he was lonely and insecure underneath. She didn’t really know the real Tony, but she suspected that Gibbs saw him.

It was a different relationship than the others they had. Tony was friendly with everyone on the team, even if it was all surface for most of them, never revealing anything about his past, except maybe to Abby. Gibbs was very much boss/subordinate with herself and McGee, but she supposed that could just be because he’d known them the shortest time. After all, Ducky had known him for many years and it showed in how he was able to call Gibbs ‘Jethro’. Not even Abby did that, but then Kate often felt that Gibbs and Abby’s relationship was more like father/daughter, so it didn’t really surprise her that Abby stuck to nick names.

Abby and Tony were a lot like siblings and sometimes Kate thought Gibbs and Tony had a father/son relationship, but it usually felt different to that. If Kate didn’t know Gibbs had been married and divorced three times and Tony was a serial womaniser, she would say it was attraction.

She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the mental image of her two teammates locked in a passionate kiss, then dismissed the idea with a snort, like she always did.

Kate paused, then rewound that last thought: _Like she always did_. She realised that she came to that conclusion a lot of the times she thought about Gibbs and Tony. The question was; was she simply unable to think past that thought now she’d had it, or had she profiled something? If it was the second option, it had been subconscious, because yes, Tony made Gibbs laugh, got away with being an idiot, allowed the head slaps and yet also stood his ground against Gibbs when necessary, but didn’t ‘just’ friends do the same? Kate thought round in circles for a little bit longer, talking herself into and out of the attraction idea, before the day caught up to her and sleep claimed her.

*~*

Gibbs hung up the phone, double checked the coffee machine was set and generally dithered about. It was only when he caught himself straightening the dish towels that he realised what he was doing. He gave himself a head slap- he was Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs; he did _not_ dither! It wasn’t even as if he didn’t want to go upstairs and check on Tony!

Gibbs strode purposefully out of the kitchen, turning the lights off behind him as he made his way upstairs. The bathroom was empty and there was no light showing underneath Tony’s door, but Gibbs doubted it would be that easy. He decided to get his ablutions out of the way before he checked on Tony. He figured he might as well face whatever was to come with clean teeth.

Finished in the bathroom, Gibbs hesitated. Should he check on Tony and risk waking him, or head to bed and wait until Tony approached him? He quickly realised that there was no way he’d be able to rest without checking on Tony first. Besides, he had the skill that all parents acquired early on- the ability to open bedroom doors silently.

Decision made, Gibbs moved down the hall, carefully pushed open Tony’s door and peered into the room. He frowned. The bed was empty, not only of Tony, but of sheets and pillows, too. Gibbs stepped fully into the room, but there was nowhere Tony could be hiding, except on the far side of the bed. No joy and Gibbs refused to look in the wardrobe. Tony wasn’t the type to hide in there no matter what had happened. He wasn’t downstairs; he wasn’t in the bathroom or his room, so that only left one possibility…

Gibbs turned round and headed for his own room. Again, no Tony, but this time when he looked round the far side of the bed he hit pay dirt. There was Tony, all but hidden under his sheets, curled up into a surprisingly small ball. He wasn’t asleep, despite having his eyes shut. Gibbs could tell by the rigid tension he could see even under the covers.

He let Tony hide for a few minutes more by changing into pyjama bottoms and an old USMC t-shirt before he moved over to sit on the side of the bed near Tony’s nest. “What are you doing, Tony?” No response. “I know you’re awake, DiNozzo.”

The lump that was Tony sighed and his head appeared from beneath the pile of covers. “I’m sorry, boss. I went to my room, but I couldn’t sleep, so I came in here. Please let me stay, I’ll be quiet.” Tony spoke in such a rush that Gibbs struggled to pick out the individual words.

“It’s ok, Tony. You’re more than welcome. But you don’t have to sleep down there. If you feel up to it, you can sleep up here with me. And I mean sleep, Tony. It’s late and we’ve had a long day.” Gibbs didn’t want Tony to feel any sort of pressure about sleeping with him in the more intimate sense. He just wanted Tony to be comfortable and to be close by for when the inevitable nightmares hit.

Tony didn’t move immediately, so Gibbs stood and pulled the covers down on the left side of the bed, the side Tony was lying next to. “Come on, Tony, up you get.” He stood back and watched as Tony cautiously moved to lie on the bed, then pulled the covers up over the younger man. Tony still didn’t relax, though, until Gibbs went to the other side and climbed in. They lay on their backs, heads tilted to watch each other, for a few minutes, then Gibbs pulled the handy cord that turned the lights off. He lay awake and listened to Tony’s breathing in the silence- he wasn’t asleep even after ten minutes. He thought evening his own breathing might lull Tony, even though he didn’t actually expect to sleep himself.

Another 10-15 minutes passed before he felt the bed move as Tony turned onto his side. Tony’s voice floated out of the darkness: “I know what you’re doing, but it won’t work. I have an idea what will, though,” he added tentatively.

“Yeah?” Gibbs asked.

Tony didn’t reply, but Gibbs again felt the mattress dip and his eyes had adjusted to what little street light made it through the tick curtains, so he could just make Tony out as he shuffled closer until he was pressed against Gibbs’ right side, head on his shoulder and hand on his chest. Tony still wasn’t relaxed, though, and Gibbs realised he was waiting for a reaction.

Not wanting Tony to ever doubt his welcome, Gibbs worked his right arm around Tony’s shoulders and linked the fingers of his left with the hand on his chest. He also dropped a kiss on the top of Tony’s head. The younger man finally relaxed and, when Gibbs started gently stroking his right hand along Tony’s arm from shoulder to elbow and back, he eventually fell asleep.

Not expecting to fall asleep himself, Gibbs was shocked when he woke at- a quick glance to the left showed 5.41 glowing in the darkness. He lay there trying to figure out what had woken him. He didn’t have to wait long before Tony whimpered in his sleep and he knew that was what had roused him. He tried to head the nightmare off by resuming the stroking along Tony’s arm, whilst whispering soothing nonsense when Tony got more agitated and started struggling against his loose hold. It seemed to work as Tony settled down, but then he suddenly bolted awake and away with a cry. Gibbs let go, not wanting to add to Tony’s panic by restraining him. He feared Tony was going to throw himself off the bed, but he stopped at the edge, eyes darting and breath coming in ragged gasps.

Gibbs slowly levered himself up onto his elbows and tried to get through to Tony, “Easy, Tony, you’re safe. It’s just us, just me. Just a nightmare.”

He repeated himself a few times before Tony started calming down, but eventually Tony focussed on him. “Hey there,” Gibbs greeted softly.

Tony didn’t reply, just stared at him for long enough that Gibbs thought he’d jumped the gun on whether Tony was with him. He was about to say something more when Tony suddenly launched at him, catching him in the chest and knocking him flat again. Gibbs got a new appreciation for the size of the younger man when he landed hard on top of him, knocking the breath out of him for a second. Tony fisted his left hand in the right shoulder of Gibbs’ t-shirt and Gibbs braced for a punch, his mind rushing through ways of subduing Tony without hurting him. So it came as a shock when, rather than a fist hitting his face, it was Tony’s mouth, his lips taking Gibbs’ in a bruising kiss, while his free hand scrabbled at the covers that were tangled between them. Knowing Tony’s nightmare was probably about his rape, Gibbs let him take the control he craved, opening to the kiss and helping with the covers. In a matter of moments, Tony was straddling Gibbs, his free hand fisting in the other shoulder of Gibbs’ t-shirt. The older man let Tony run things for a few minutes, until it got a bit too intense when Tony moved back that crucial inch to put his ass in contact with Gibbs’ very interested cock. His instinct was to take what Tony was offering, pull down his loose sweats and pound him into next week, but he kept control, instead trying to calm Tony. He gentled his side of the kiss and brought his hands up- one to the small of Tony’s back, the other to the back of his neck. Tony’s t-shirt had ridden up a little and Gibbs started rubbing his thumb over the skin there, his other thumb pushing under the collar Tony still wore and mirroring the gentle caress.

It seemed that Tony wasn’t interested in being calmed, however, as he pulled away from Gibbs just enough to fix him with a wild gaze. “Fuck me!” he demanded and Gibbs groaned, shifting his hands down to grip Tony’s hips hard when the younger man wriggled suggestively over his groin.

“No, Tony,” he said gently, though a little hoarsely.

Tony’s face darkened, a mix of anger and desperation. He used his grip on Gibbs’ t-shirt to give him a small shake. “Yes! Please, boss. I need you to get rid of the feeling of Davies inside me!”

“Not tonight, Tony. It’s not the right time.”

Tony slumped in defeat, his eyes closing as his head turned away, shoulders dropping. “I knew it,” he said softly, “you can’t stand the sight of me now I’m tainted.” He looked at Gibbs with such a wounded look that the older man felt his heart breaking. He also felt the muscles still under his hands tensing and guessed Tony was about to get up and, most likely, retreat to the other room. Well, Gibbs wasn’t letting things end that way and with a determined heave, he flipped them so that Tony was pinned beneath him.

A small part was pleased to note that although Tony was surprised by the move, he wasn’t afraid of being pinned like that. However, the larger part was concerned more with getting Tony to hear him. “You listen to me, Anthony DiNozzo, and you listen good. What that animal Davies did to you changes nothing about my feelings for you. Hell, you weren’t even trying and you made me hard as a rock,” he shifted his hips in demonstration, a move which also served to illustrate his next point: “But, Tony, you aren’t ready. You aren’t hard, not even a little. I’d love nothing more than to pound you into next week, to take you so hard that neither of us can move, but I won’t do that until you are ready. Taking you now would make me no better than Davies.”

With those final words, Gibbs felt all the remaining tension drain out of the body under his. Tony’s eyes softened as he gazed up at Gibbs, and a hand lifted to gently caress his cheek. “You could never be like Davies, Jethro, because I could never be afraid of you. I know you’d never hurt me, not on purpose. And I know that if you did, you wouldn’t take pleasure in it. But just so you know, I don’t mind a little pain when it’s from someone I trust.”

The absolute truth of what Tony was saying, the complete trust and openness staring up at him from hazel-green eyes, floored Gibbs. He was speechless and could only think of one way to adequately respond to such a revelation; he kissed him, as tenderly as he knew how. One kiss led to another, Tony accepting the gentle give and take, seeming to understand what Gibbs was trying to say. They kissed for a long time, but it stayed gentle, the touches soothing. Despite that, Gibbs erection refused to abate. He’d wanted the lithe body underneath him for so long and his dick wasn’t willing to give up as easily as the rest of him. He could see a trip to the bathroom was in order soon.

Tony had other ideas, it seemed. In a move similar to Gibbs’ own, he spun them so he was once again straddling Gibbs, this time sliding down to sit on his thighs. “Let me take care of you, Jethro,” he offered.

“Tony,” Gibbs warned.

“Please, boss. I didn’t mean to be a cock-tease, but I was and I want to fix that. But I’ve also wanted to touch you for so long. I promise I’ll only use my hands. No way I can flashback to Davies that way.”

Gibbs was all set to put a stop to things, no matter that his body was crying out for Tony’s touch, but then Tony reached forward and squeezed Gibbs through his sweats. Gibbs groaned and his hips attempted to buck upwards, but were held down by Tony’s weight. Gibbs really had to fight himself, but he retained enough control to grip Tony’s wrist in an iron hold, preventing him from doing anything else to inflame the situation. He stared up at Tony, but saw only lust and desire in Tony’s eyes. Still, he managed to say, “You stop if you feel at all uncomfortable, Tony. Don’t worry about me; I can jerk myself off in the bathroom if needed.”

Tony’s eyes darkened as the already blown pupils expanded even more. “I’d like to see that sometime,” he said, voice gone husky. That was it; Gibbs couldn’t resist any longer, his hand slid off of Tony’s wrist to the bed, his eyes closed tight and another groan escaped from him. Tony took it as the assent it was, sliding to the side so he could shove Gibbs’ sweats out of the way. He didn’t bother pulling them down any further than mid-thigh, but Gibbs wasn’t going to complain, especially when Tony resumed his seat on Gibbs’ legs.

Gibbs levered himself up onto his elbows so he could watch Tony. He tried to convince himself that it was all concern for Tony’s wellbeing, but he knew that a lot of it was purely a desire to watch Tony touching him in a way he’d been dreaming of almost since he’d met the man in Baltimore. Still, there was always a part of him watching out for Tony and he couldn’t quite silence it, couldn’t stop himself glancing at Tony’s face from time to time and assessing his expression.

Tony started tentatively, touching slowly and carefully. Gibbs suspected he was testing his own nerves as much as he was trying to learn what made Gibbs react best. He alternated grip and speed a few times, licking his lips when he got a particularly loud moan. Suddenly he let go and moved away. Gibbs collapsed back to the bed with a groan. As much as he’d said it was okay for Tony to stop any time he needed to, that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He was just trying to find the energy to get up and move to the bathroom when he heard the bedside cabinet drawer being opened. He looked to the side just as Tony withdrew a partially used tube of lotion that one of the previous agents, or their charge, must have left behind.

Tony gave a triumphant grin and squeezed a little of the lotion onto his hand, allowing it to warm a little before he returned to his position over Jethro. He resumed his ministrations, the movement of his hand smoother thanks to the lotion. He gradually increased the speed of his strokes up and down, adding an occasional twist on the upstroke and sliding his thumb over the sensitive head of Gibbs’ cock, spreading the pre-come around and adding to the glide.

Gibbs had to keep forcing his eyes open. They wanted to close so he could simply lay there and revel in sensation, but he wanted to watch Tony as he worked he cock in his hand. The urge to thrust into the ever tightening grip was overwhelming, but he could barely manage more than a twitch with Tony settled across his legs. The way Tony glanced up at him with a feral smile suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

Before Gibbs could start begging- after all, he’d been hard for a good long time at that point- Tony stopped dragging things out, moving his hand quickly, gripping tightly and adding the twist to every stroke. Gibbs couldn’t hold in the noises, the moans, groans and gasps that Tony’s actions pulled from him. One last swipe of Tony’s thumb over the little slit on the head, coupled with Tony’s other hand starting to play with his balls and Gibbs was gone, shooting come over Tony’s hand and his own t-shirt-covered abdomen with a shout.

Tony kept on working him through it until Gibbs once more grabbed his wrist in a tight grip when things got too sensitive. He forced his eyes open yet again and gazed up at a grinning and flushed Tony. “God, that was fantastic, Tony. Thank you,” Gibbs said. He could see and feel that Tony was still completely soft himself, but there was no sign of any negative feelings in the almost glowing face of his new lover.

“That was so hot. You should’ve seen your face when you came, Jethro.” Tony grinned, then gently broke the grip on his wrist, lifting his hand up so that he could lick it clean of Gibbs’ come. Gibbs felt another bolt of arousal shoot through him at the sight, but there was no way he could manage anything but a heartfelt moan. Tony gave a mischievous grin, then hopped off the bed and out of the room. He left the door open so Gibbs could see him move to the bathroom, wash his hands and wet a cloth. A few moments later, Tony was back, tenderly wiping Gibbs clean, though there was nothing he could do for the t-shirt.

Gibbs sat up and pulled the stained garment over his head, his usual marine neatness losing to his afterglow as he simply dropped it over the side of the bed, instead of getting up and putting it in the laundry basket. He dropped back onto the bed again, but then realised that Tony might be uncomfortable with him being half naked, despite what had just happened. He sighed and sat up again, getting ready to head to the chest of drawers for a new t-shirt.

A hand on his arm stopped him from moving any further. He turned to look at Tony with a raised brow. “You don’t have to put a t-shirt on for me. If you’d rather leave it off, I’m okay with that. Honest.”

Taking Tony at his word, determined to show him that he wasn’t going to molly-coddle him and treat him as something fragile, Gibbs lay back down. He did pull his sweats back up, though, reasoning that him being completely naked would be a step too far. Once he was settled on his back, Tony draped himself against his side, once again laying his head on Gibbs shoulder and a hand on his chest.

They lay in companionable silence, Gibbs stroking his hand along Tony’s arm again and Tony gently running his fingers through the newly uncovered chest hair. It wasn’t long before they fell asleep and this time they were able to sleep through ‘til morning without Tony having another nightmare.

*~*

Tony awoke to muted sunlight filtering through the curtains. He smiled faintly, realising he’d slept peacefully for the rest of the night. The smile dropped from his face when he realised that he was alone, the place Gibbs had occupied cool to his touch. Tony supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Despite what Gibbs had said the night before, he was damaged goods now and why should Gibbs waste his time waiting for Tony to be ready for sex with him?

Then his eyes caught the bedside clock. It was 10.30 and Tony felt a wave of relief wash over him. Gibbs never slept late, he knew, so even with the late night and the disturbed sleep, there was every chance that the man had simply got up; no ulterior motive or feelings of disgust involved.

That idea made Tony feel happier, though he knew he wouldn’t be completely reassured until he’d seen Gibbs’ reaction to him with his own eyes.

He didn’t have to wait long- Gibbs arrived in the doorway as if thinking about him made him appear, like Abby always said about him knowing when she had results. He was carrying the ubiquitous cup of coffee. “Morning, Tony,” he greeted.

“Hey, boss,” Tony replied, happy to see no sign of regret or disgust in Gibbs’ face. “There any coffee left?”

Gibbs drained the mug in his hand and, with a smirk, said, “If you’re quick.”

Tony scrambled from the bed and dashed downstairs, a grin on his face. He hurried into the kitchen and poured what turned out to be the last of the coffee into a mug, quickly ‘poisoning’ it with enough sugar to keep it safe from Gibbs. Satisfied, he set about preparing the machine for a new batch. Without turning, he addressed the man standing in the doorway, knowing Gibbs was there even though he’d made no sound. “You let me win!”

“Would I do a thing like that?” Gibbs asked.

“You would if you knew it meant I’d make a new batch and you’d get the first mug of fresh coffee!” Tony retorted.

“Maybe,” Gibbs said, but anything else he added was lost to Tony. Gibbs had moved closer, too close. He was right behind Tony, leaning round him slightly to set his empty mug on the counter next to Tony’s full one, the narrowness of the kitchen making him step close.

Tony was frozen. There was a man behind him. Last time a man had stood behind him, he’d been hurt. A tiny voice, Tony’s logic, was telling him that it was Gibbs and he wouldn’t be hurt, but the panic had too big a hold on him and he could only react to the perceived threat. He had to get out of the narrow space before he was trapped against the counter! Shoving backwards suddenly, Tony’s back impacted with the chest behind him and the man stumbled back just enough for Tony to dart away and out through the kitchen door. He ran to the front door, but it was locked and the man was already after him, yelling. There was no time to unlock the door, so he ran to the next one. It was open, so Tony dove inside and shoved the door shut, flinging himself at it to keep the man from following. He saw that the door had a lock on the inside, so he engaged it. Just in time, too, as his legs gave out and he slid to the floor, gasping for breath as his heart tried to pound out of his rib cage. There was yelling and pounding from the other side of the door and Tony flinched, then scrambled away. He looked around the small room he was in; no other way out, which wasn’t good. There was a toilet a few feet away from him and that _was_ good- he needed to throw up!

*~*

Gibbs stood there, stunned, his hand absently rubbing at his chest where Tony had impacted. It seemed like forever, but was only a few moments before he was shaking himself free from his daze and following Tony into the hallway. Tony was at the front door and Gibbs called out. He didn’t want to spook Tony any more than he already had, but he dreaded to think what might happen if Tony got out onto the street in his current state. His heart broke a little at the terrified sob Tony gave on hearing his voice, but it worked to get him away from the door.

He watched Tony fling himself at the next door along the hallway- the bathroom- and seconds later he heard the lock engage. He moved to the door, tapping gently and calling just loud enough to be heard through the wood, but all he got was another cry, followed by the sound of retching. He rested his forehead and flat palm against the door for a moment, eyes closed. He could actually undo the lock from the outside- it was a safety lock, because it wasn’t impossible that witnesses being kept there might be injured, addicts or suicidal and their handlers needed to be able to reach them quickly in case of emergencies, but at least the lock gave the illusion of privacy to people who were, to all intents and purposes, locked up with strangers.

Tony was safe, though, and it was more important that Gibbs prove he could be trusted. It would probably take Tony a while to come back from that level of panic, so Gibbs moved back into the kitchen. He needed coffee! Unfortunately, the only coffee available was Tony’s rapidly cooling mug. Gibbs grimaced, but took a mouthful anyway, nearly gagging on the sweetness. He didn’t know how Tony could stand it so sweet! He wondered whether Tony truly liked that much sugar, or whether it was just a way to stop Gibbs from stealing it. One day he’d ask.

He took a minute to get the machine working on a new batch, then pulled a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water- figuring Tony would appreciate it once he’d calmed down- then headed back into the hall, settling on the bottom of the stairs to wait.

He cursed himself while he waited. He’d seen enough victims of rape, assault and abuse over the years to know that it was generally a bad idea to approach them in a blind spot. Just because he knew Tony, it didn’t mean the rules didn’t apply, didn’t mean Tony would react differently to all the others, not even after what he’d shared with Gibbs during the night.

It was maybe ten minutes before he heard the lock disengage. He looked up, but stayed seated, wanting to appear as unthreatening as possible. When Tony didn’t open the door, or emerge after another minute, he moved to the door and repeated his earlier tap and call. No response, which was better than the fearful whimper, but not really very helpful. Gibbs decided to risk pushing the door open a crack, “Tony? Can I come in?”

The whispered, “Yeah,” was so quiet he almost missed it.

Relieved, he pushed the door open fully, revealing Tony leaning against the opposite wall between the sink and toilet, legs drawn up and head resting on his knees. Gibbs being Gibbs, he avoided the usual enquiry about how Tony was feeling, instead holding the water out towards him and saying, “Here, thought you might need this.”

Tony looked up after a few moments, then carefully took the glass, rinsing his mouth a few times, before taking a few sips. “Thanks,” he said.

As Tony showed no inclination to get up and leave the small room, Gibbs slid down the wall just inside the doorway. There was no room next to Tony with the toilet and sink so close, maybe Tony’s subconscious at work. Hell, the room was so small that, once Gibbs was mirroring Tony’s position, there was barely a foot between their drawn-up knees. They sat in silence for a few moments, then Gibbs said, “How’re you feeling?” He winced internally; it was human nature to ask after someone who had suffered a trauma or been injured or ill, obviously even Gibbs wasn’t immune to that instinct for long.

“Like an idiot,” Tony responded.

“Well you can pack that in right now, DiNozzo!” Gibbs ordered, fighting the desire to head slap Tony.

“Come on, Gibbs. Only a few hours ago I was telling you how much I trusted you, that I knew you’d never hurt me, and now this!” Tony’s voice was angry, but Gibbs knew that it wasn’t aimed at him, so he kept his own voice reasonable.

“Tony, you’ve dealt with enough victims over the years to know that fight or flight is a powerful thing, that once the panic kicks in, logic goes out the window. If you want to blame anyone for this little incident, it should be me. I wasn’t thinking when I got so close. I assumed that because you’d been okay with the closeness last night, you’d be okay this morning, but I forgot the crucial point that you were always facing me last night.”

Again they lapsed into silence, Gibbs content to let Tony mull over his words. Suddenly Tony scrambled to his feet and Gibbs prepared himself, though he didn’t know for what. He stared blankly for a brief moment at the hand Tony thrust towards him, but then took it and allowed Tony to pull him to his feet, intrigued when he said, “Come on, I’ve got an idea.”

*~*

Tony pulled Gibbs upright and led him into the living room. He wanted to get himself straightened out, irritated by his panicked reaction to Gibbs. He was going to damn well get over it! He knew Gibbs wouldn’t hurt him and he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life flinching anytime someone was behind him- it would interfere with his job, and that was one thing Tony wouldn’t allow.

Stopping in the middle of the room, Tony faced Gibbs. Nerves started to kick in, but Tony shut his eyes and took a few deep breathes. There was no way he was backing out.

“Tony?” Gibbs questioned.

Opening his eyes again, Tony said, “I need to fix this and I need you to help.” Then he turned around so that his back was to Gibbs, waiting to see if he’d have to explain.

“Tony, are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t want you to push yourself, you could end up making it worse.”

Tony peered over his shoulder, “Please, Gibbs. I’m in an open space here, so I won’t feel trapped like I did in the kitchen. You can go slow, talk to me, let me know where you are, but please, I need to get over this and I trust you to help.” That said, he turned his face away again so that he could no longer see Gibbs, though he listened carefully for any movement.

There was a sigh and then Gibbs said, “Fine, but if you need to stop, you tell me. I don’t want a repeat of what just happened.”

Tony simply nodded and tried to stay relaxed. They were doing this.

Gibbs started talking, voice quiet, making Tony concentrate on what he was saying. He found that the focus helped to calm him more than the words; he wasn’t really listening to what Gibbs was saying. He suspected Gibbs knew exactly what he was doing. He could tell from the slow volume increase that Gibbs was carefully moving nearer, but it was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he gasped and flinched, coming out of the haze he’d been in as he’d focused on Gibbs’ voice.

“Easy, Tony,” Gibbs said, “I’m still at arms length, there’s still space between us. Just get used to this for a minute and then I’ll start moving closer. Tony nodded, afraid that his voice would break if he spoke. He took deep breaths and eventually felt his shoulders start to relax under the warm hand. It took too long as far as he was concerned, but at least he managed it.

Once he’d relaxed a bit, the hand started moving slightly, just rubbing back and forth on his shoulder soothingly. “Good, Tony, you’re doing well. Okay, I’m going to move nearer, try to stay relaxed.” Tony heard the slight noise as Gibbs moved in closer, felt the slight difference in the angle of the hand on him, even as it kept up the gentle movement. For a moment he thought it was going to be okay, but then, without conscious though, he found himself stepping forward, opening up the distance between them again. He sighed, certain he’d blown it and Gibbs wouldn’t be willing to try again.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently and Gibbs said, “It’s okay, Tony. We’ll keep trying until you actually tell me to stop. Just relax and I’ll try again.”

Tony did as instructed, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. Once again Gibbs moved closer, talking as he went. It was a slow process, Gibbs taking his time, pausing to let Tony adjust, Tony’s body betraying him a couple more times and moving away a step, but eventually Gibbs stood close behind Tony, not yet touching except for the ever-present hand, but so close that Tony felt the heat from his body against his back. They stood like that for what seemed like hours to Tony, but was probably not even ten minutes in reality, Gibbs talking soothingly the whole time. Eventually Gibbs said, “You ready for the next step? I’m going to move the last inch or so, so we’ll be in full body contact.”

“Do it,” Tony said, not giving himself time to think about it. Gibbs stepped in and Tony felt the heat and pressure along his back…for a moment, before his body moved away once again. Like before, Gibbs didn’t give up, following Tony’s halting steps across the room until the time Tony didn’t pull away. “Good, Tony, that’s good,” he said, in what was rapidly becoming his catchphrase, Tony thought wryly. “That’s it, you’re fine. There’s plenty of room round you, you’re not trapped, just keep breathing slowly.”

It went on like that for another few minutes and Tony finally felt himself starting to truly relax, letting himself lean back against Gibbs just a little. Gibbs took his weight without complaint and, after a few minutes, he carefully moved one arm up and around Tony’s waist, talking the whole time. By then, Tony was relaxed enough that he didn’t pull away and, after yet more minutes, Gibbs brought his other arm round Tony’s body until he held him pressed against his chest and Tony shivered as Gibbs’ breath ghosted against his ear.

“Thank you,” he whispered, bringing his own hands up to rest against Gibbs’ arms where they crossed over his abdomen.

“You’re welcome, Tony. You’ve done really well, but it’s not over yet. We’re going to work on this during the day. You’re relaxed now, but we’ve worked for a long time and gone slowly. Now comes the harder part. I’m going to come stand behind you at random times during the day. To start with I’ll give you plenty of warning, but I’ll cut that down each time, giving you less time to prepare. Hopefully, by this evening, I’ll be able to come up behind you without saying anything, but don’t get upset if we don’t reach that point today. I don’t want to rush things and end up back at square one.”

*~*

True to his word, Gibbs spent much of the day desensitising Tony. The younger man hadn’t felt up to facing the outside world, but they both had plenty of books, magazines and puzzle books to entertain them, not to mention the TV, radio and the DVDs Tony had brought with him, so they weren’t bored. They had a good few hours, so Gibbs went slowly, starting by walking behind Tony as he watched TV sat on the couch they’d pulled away from the wall. The first few times he gave Tony a verbal cue, despite the fact that Tony could see Gibbs set aside his reading and stand up. Things progressed so that Gibbs trailed his fingers along the top of the couch, taking in Tony’s shoulders and the back of his neck along the route, starting furthest away from Tony and giving him plenty of time to see it. After that came simply touching Tony straight away without using the whole couch.

Most times when Tony got up to change or remove a DVD, Gibbs would be there, once more progressing from verbal warning to simply appearing. It was the same in the kitchen whenever Tony went to make coffee or get food.

It wasn’t truly random, not with all the opportunities Tony manufactured for Gibbs, but he could at least keep Tony a little uncertain by simply not appearing at Tony’s back every single time.

By 5.30 Tony was reacting pretty calmly to Gibbs’ presence, so he decided to take the final step. Tony was getting another batch of coffee going and Gibbs followed him into the kitchen. Up ‘til then, when he’d approached Tony in the kitchen, he’d been careful to pull Tony back against him and thus away from the kitchen counter and the trapped feeling. It was finally time to try something else. He waited until Tony was in the midst of getting the coffee, then moved quietly yet quickly forward until he was pressed against Tony’s back, which in turn pressed him against the counter. He finished the action by grasping the worktop on each side of Tony, effectively trapping him completely. Then he waited. Tony tensed initially, but slowly relaxed with an explosive breath and a, “Christ, Gibbs!”

“You’ve done so well,” Gibbs praised, nuzzling behind Tony’s ear and then kissing the side of his head.

“Maybe, but is it enough?” Tony wondered.

“What do you mean?”

Tony turned in the tight space Gibbs had him trapped in, moving until he faced Gibbs and could wrap his arms loosely round the older man’s waist. He leaned forward slightly and gave Gibbs a gentle kiss. “You’ve helped me so much, Jethro. I’m so grateful for all you’ve done today to get me used to you at my back, but I worry that it’s not enough. I have no idea what will happen if anyone other than you stands behind me, and god, if Davies does it…” Tony shuddered.

Gibbs studied Tony for a few moments, then asked, “You want to call it off?”

“No,” was Tony’s immediate answer. Then he continued more slowly, “But I’m worried, boss. If something happens like the panic attack this morning, I won’t be able to watch your six. I’ll be a liability and it could even blow our cover.”

Tony looked so dejected that Gibbs’ heart hurt. He moved his right hand from the work surface up to Tony’s neck, giving a comforting squeeze. As his fingers brushed the collar Tony still hadn’t removed, he had an idea. Normally he was pretty sure about his ideas, but this one… His uncertainty showed in the uncharacteristically hesitant way he presented it to Tony: “What do you know about subspace?” Tony’s eyes widened in surprise and Gibbs rushed on without even giving him a chance to answer, managing to find his normal calm tone, even though he still didn’t feel that way. “At the basic level, it’s really a kind of trance, a bit like meditation, or hypnosis even. It’s a way of focusing on one thing and letting everything else fade into the background. We could work on something like that, work on getting you to focus just on me if you think you need to escape for a while.”

He waited what seemed like hours for Tony to say something, but Tony was obviously giving it some thought. That or he was just in shock from the suggestion. What was really no more than a minute later, Tony said tentatively, “You can do that?”

“Yeah. I’ve played once or twice. Nothing too heavy, but enough that my partner wanted to fall a little. I think it could help just to take the edge off, just give you that little bit of a disconnect, so you can take everything in and react if I need you to, but you won’t really be with it enough to react in panic. It wouldn’t even have to be the whole time, just if you feel like it’s all getting to be a bit too much.” Gibbs stopped talking, aware that he was perilously close to rambling. He gazed steadily at Tony, trying to convey his acceptance of whatever Tony decided.

“If…If I agree, will it change what you want from our relationship?” Tony asked tentatively.

Gibbs took a moment to revel in the fact that Tony still wanted to get into a relationship with him, despite his rape. However, he didn’t take long, as he needed to address Tony’s question and get any worries out of his mind. “You mean, will I want you as my permanent submissive?” At Tony’s slight nod, Gibbs assured, “Like I said, I’ve played a bit, and I wouldn’t mind playing with you on occasion, when we both feel like it, but I spend all day being in control, I don’t want to come home and have to spend the rest of my time being in charge. It’s nice to put aside Agent Gibbs for a few hours and just be Jethro, so no; things won’t change between us, Tony.”

Tony smiled in response, a relieved smile, if Gibbs was any judge. It looked like he’d given the right answer, which was good, because he’d only just considered the fact that Tony might have been hoping Gibbs would say yes he wanted to be Tony’s Dom. He’d dodged a bullet he hadn’t even known was coming his way. Tony broke him out of his thoughts before he got a chance to dwell too much. “Okay, let’s do it. Where do you want me?”

“Couch is probably comfortable enough,” Gibbs said. Tony needed to be somewhere where he could relax and the couch was the only real option, as Gibbs wanted to keep it out of the bedroom and avoid any possible connotations in future.

Tony smiled and gave Gibbs a quick, closed-mouth kiss, then left the kitchen. Gibbs followed and they arranged themselves on the couch. “So, how does this work? What do I have to do?” Tony asked. Gibbs thought for a moment, remembering what he’d done so many years ago with his partner. He remembered sending her down with quiet words and pressure round her wrists, but he didn’t think the wrist part would work for Tony; it would either aggravate the bruises, cause Tony to flashback to being restrained the night before, or even worse, both. He explained as much to Tony, then thought for another few moments, thinking back to what had given him the idea in the first place.

“I think the back of your neck will work fine. All you need to do is close your eyes and listen to what I’m saying.” Tony shuffled about on the couch quickly, settling himself into an even more comfortable position, before taking a quick, deep breath and closing his eyes.

Gibbs took a fortifying breath of his own. It really was years since he’d last played. He warned Tony that he was about to touch his neck, not wanting to get things started on the wrong foot, then suited actions to words and gently wrapped his right hand round the back of Tony’s neck, enjoying the feel of warm skin and warm leather. He ignored the little shiver he felt Tony experience and started talking.

Like earlier in the day, Gibbs pitched his voice low, forcing Tony to concentrate if he wanted to hear what Gibbs was saying. And what he was saying was a litany of reassurance and encouragement, “Just relax and listen to my voice, Tony. Just focus on what I’m saying and let everything else fade away. That’s it, you’re doing fine.” He slowly increased the pressure round Tony’s neck as he talked and after about five minutes he saw what he was looking for: Tony’s breathing slowing and deepening slightly in conjunction with his posture relaxing a little. “Good, Tony, fall for me, that’s it,” he praised. He removed his hand and watched to see if Tony stayed under. Satisfied, he spoke again, “Can you hear me, Tony?”

“Uh huh,” Tony replied softly.

“Good, that’s good. How do you feel? Look at me, I want to see your eyes.” This was the test. Had he managed to drop Tony enough, without going too far?

“I feel good, boss. Maybe a little spacey, like I’ve had one too many beers.” Tony’s tone of voice matched how he said he felt; a little slow and with a slight drawl. His head raised and his eyes opened in that same slow and relaxed manner and Gibbs saw that he looked very slightly unfocused, his eyes a tiny bit glassy.

Gibbs was pleased with himself. It looked like he’d been successful; Tony was just buzzed enough that he felt no pain, but was still pretty lucid. He needed Tony to be able to think and act independently if things went south, needed Tony to be able to watch his six and not need instructing constantly.

Of course, the real test was what Tony did when Gibbs said: “Okay, good. I want you to think about Davies now, think about him moving round you, behind you.”

Tony shuddered slightly, but didn’t show too much distress. Nevertheless, Gibbs returned his hand to Tony’s neck and murmured encouragement. “How do you feel now? Angry, anxious, scared?”

“I…I don’t know,” Tony confessed. He frowned slightly, but didn’t actually seem bothered that he didn’t know what he was feeling.

Gibbs decided to bring him back up so that they could discuss things and see if Tony felt comfortable continuing. It had taken about five minutes for Tony to fall into subspace and it took almost as long to get him back up again, but Gibbs saw the moment when Tony’s eyes focused more sharply. “Hey, Tony, you back with me?” he greeted.

“Yeah,” Tony said, blinking a few times and giving his head a quick shake. “That was weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?” Gibbs wondered.

“Just weird,” Tony said unhelpfully. “When you asked me how I felt, I didn’t know. It was like I knew I _should_ feel all those things you said, but I couldn’t connect with those feelings, like I was feeling them through fog or something. Like I said: weird.”

Gibbs studied Tony for a moment, but the younger man didn’t appear freaked out, just bemused. “Sounds like it went exactly as I hoped it would; gave you some distance from the feelings and allowed you to keep the panic at bay. Do you think it will help you, if necessary, tonight?”

Tony was silent for a few moments, obviously thinking it through, but before long he said: “Yeah. It was definitely strange, but it did help me face up to thoughts of Davies and I want to be able to see the op through, so yeah. Let’s do it.”

“Okay. We need to work on the timing then. You took about five minutes to fall and the same to come up again; not bad for a first time, but we need it to be a much quicker response. If things get to the point where you need to fall, there won’t be a lot of time to drop you. We’re not aiming for instant, that’s too advanced for a crash course and unnecessary for the cover as you’re still supposed to be new to the game.”

“I just need to get a few things straight before we go ahead, boss,” Tony said.

Gibbs sat back a little, giving Tony a bit more space. This was a big thing for Tony to learn when he wasn’t really interested in the scene and Gibbs wanted Tony to know that he could ask any questions he wanted, that there was no pressure to go that particular route. “Go ahead,” he said.

“This is probably a stupid question, but what happens after this case? Will I still go into subspace if you happen to touch my neck when we’re out on a case three months down the line?”

“It’s not a stupid question, Tony. You don’t know how this works and you have a right to ask. It’s a good question, in fact. The answer is twofold: Firstly, I’ll be using a verbal command as well as using the pressure on your neck, so the one shouldn’t work without the other. Also, like I said before, we’re not aiming for an instant transition, so it’s highly unlikely I’d ever be touching you for long enough when we’re at work. Does that clear things up?”

Tony nodded slowly, “Yeah, that helps. Thanks, boss.”

“No worries. You ready to try again?”

Tony nodded and they settled themselves back into comfortable positions to practice. For the next hour Gibbs worked at dropping Tony into subspace and bringing him back up, each time getting results a little quicker. He made sure to throw in a few practices of _not_ falling, too, to show Tony the difference. Eventually they’d got it down to around 30 seconds for Tony to react either way. Gibbs was happy with that; it was more than respectable for Tony DiNozzo and Tony Schofield. Besides which, Tony was starting to look a little dazed even in normal headspace; hardly surprising given all the yo-yoing up and down he’d been doing in a short space of time. Gibbs called it a day and they used the remaining time to chill out, get a bite to eat and drink another cup of coffee. Tony didn’t eat much, only picking at his plate. Gibbs knew it was a case of nerves- while Tony didn’t eat excessively, despite how it seemed with all the junk food, he always enjoyed his food and only picked at it when he was ill or anxious- but he didn’t call him on it; there was no point. Tony was as stubborn as he was and he’d made up his mind to go through with the meet.

When there was only half an hour left before they needed to get ready and go, Gibbs called the office and spoke to Kate, double checking the arrangements for the surveillance. Because they were meeting Davies and Nemec at the club and being taken to the final destination, there was no way to set up surveillance beforehand, so Kate and McGee were taking one car and another team was splitting into pairs and taking two more cars. All three vehicles were going to be arranged round the club, so that whichever way Davies took them, one of the cars could follow. Having three tail cars also meant there was less possibility of being spotted, as they could swap between them all and be less suspicious than the same car following along for the whole journey. The NCIS SWAT team was also on standby and would follow along at a safe distance once they knew what sort of direction Davies was heading. The armoured van was too conspicuous to risk them getting too close, but they’d be within striking distance if they were needed. Gibbs didn’t think SWAT would be necessary; the nature of Davies’ operation meant it had to be relatively small. If too many people were in on it, even on a ship the size of Nemec’s, someone would have spotted something. Also, they didn’t smuggle so many unfortunates that they needed a large staff on the ground to deal with them. There were probably only a few guards as a precaution and the contact(s) Davies used to distribute the ‘merchandise’ as quickly as possible. Still, it was better to have SWAT on standby and not need them than the other way round.

As Gibbs neared the end of his call with Kate, he heard Tony’s phone ring and looked up to see Tony answering it. He couldn’t make out who Tony was talking to, but he guessed Abby or Ducky when he saw Tony rolling his eyes. He hung up just in time to hear Tony say, “Really, I’m fine, Duck. Look, he’s finished his call now, I’ll pass you over.” He offered Gibbs his phone, saying, “Ducky.”

Gibbs took it and greeted Ducky.

“Ah, Jethro. I called in order to check that young Tony was still going to go through with this evening’s meeting. He told me that you’d devised a way for him to stay calm, yet wouldn’t tell me what it was. He said I should ask you.”

“He said that, huh?” Gibbs asked, giving Tony a look. Tony just smirked.

“He did. So, I’m asking what it is you’ve come up with.”

“Does it really matter, Ducky, as long as it works? It’s not like I’m hurting him or anything” Gibbs hedged. He had a feeling that Ducky wouldn’t approve of the whole subspace thing.

Ducky’s tone was suspicious as he replied: “Jethro, I’ve known you for a great many years and one thing I know for certain is that if you are certain of your methods, you simply refuse to respond to an enquiry such as mine. That you feel the need to qualify it as ‘not hurting’ Anthony implies that you aren’t one hundred percent certain of your methods and know that I will not approve! Now, as Anthony’s doctor and friend, I wish to know what you are up to.”

Damn. Sometimes he hated the fact that Ducky knew him so well. He took a deep breath and said, “It’s nothing really, Ducky. I’ve just taught him to fall a little.”

“Jethro, what were you thinking?!” Ducky exclaimed, obviously having no trouble understanding what Gibbs meant by the term.

“That Tony needed some way to stay calm, for his own sake and mine!” Gibbs replied defensively.

“And did you stop to consider how it will affect your relationship after this case is closed?” Ducky used his ‘disappointed’ voice and it made Gibbs a little angry so that his next words were sharp.

“No, Ducky, the thought never crossed my mind, but you know? It might actually be just the solution I’ve been looking for to keep DiNozzo under control!” Gibbs looked over at Tony and rolled his eyes as he spoke, wanting to make sure that Tony understood that he was winding Ducky up. Normally he knew Tony would get it, but in his current state, Gibbs wanted to be certain. He needn’t have worried: Tony was grinning back at him.

“Alright, Jethro, I suppose I deserved that. I’m just worried about the boy. He already dotes on your every word and is almost desperate to please you. And that’s without considering his behaviour last night when he simply handed over all the decision-making to you.”

“Tony’s not a boy, Ducky,” Gibbs reminded, “he knows his own mind and he agreed to this. We’ve practiced as much as we could today and we’ve also practiced how _not_ to fall. Besides, Tony’s too professional to let it interfere with work.” He locked eyes with Tony as he said the last, wanting him to see the honesty of the statement. His reward was a soft smile which made him wish he’d thought of his comment much earlier.

“And what about after work?” Ducky asked; obviously not ready to be mollified yet.

“Our personal life is just that, Duck: Personal. But we’ve discussed it to our mutual satisfaction.”

Apparently realising he’d get nothing more out of Gibbs; Ducky sighed and said, “Very well, my friend, I’ll leave you to get ready. Just be careful, both of you, and I don’t just mean with the subspace aspect.”

“Always are, Duck,” Gibbs responded, before hanging up in his usual manner. He tossed the phone back to Tony, who caught it dextrously.

“He convinced?” Tony asked.

“Not really, but he’s willing to accept our judgement for now. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get the third degree once we’re back from this undercover job, though. He’s just worried.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s a good friend,” Tony replied.

Gibbs checked his watch- time was short and they needed to get ready. He looked up at Tony and said, “It’s time to get ready and get this show on the road.”

*~*

Tony stood in his room trying to decide what to wear. He hadn’t packed much, but there was enough to cover several situations and now he stood staring at it all. The leather was out for two reasons, one, it was club gear and they weren’t actually going into the club until after the deal was completed- or so Davies believed, anyway. Two, he was primarily supposed to be there to make ‘Thompson’ look good, so he couldn’t keep on wearing the same outfit like it was the only thing he had. He couldn’t dress up too much, because there was looking good and there was being ostentatious and he didn’t want Jethro to seem too eager to show off his wealth; it didn’t fit with the real man or his cover. Yet he also couldn’t dress down too much; once again because of the ‘making Thompson look good’ thing. Besides, there was no way he was putting on his more expensive trousers if he was going to have to kneel on any rough or dirty surfaces! There were also shoes to consider- he couldn’t wear anything too shiny, because any kneeling on something such as concrete and the toes would be scuffed beyond belief, yet his comfortable and already scuffed combat boots might be too casual. Then there was the top half of his body to consider. He had a stylish lightweight polo neck sweater, yet he didn’t want to hide the collar.

As he stared at the pair of black jeans laid out on the bed, wondering whether they were too casual, he was aware that he was stalling. He had a lot more clothes at home than he had in front of him, but he didn’t take half as long to pick an outfit normally. He couldn’t quite seem to break himself out of the stall, though.

Gibbs helped, whether intentionally or not, by pressing up close to Tony’s back and sliding his arms round his waist. Tony tensed at the contact, but subconsciously recognised Gibbs immediately and was relaxing almost before he’d finished tensing up. Gibbs rewarded him with a light kiss to the back of his neck, before he hooked his chin over Tony’s shoulder to stare at the clothes. “Okay?” he enquired.

Tony sighed. “Yeah, just dithering. What would Thompson want me to wear?” Tony thought it was a neat way to get out of making the decision, because really, if things were as they pretended, Thompson really would be the one to decide what his sub wore.

Gibbs stepped round Tony and looked at the outfit possibilities, fingering the material here and there as he did so, giving it serious thought. In the end he pulled out the black jeans and a burnt orange shirt that shimmered like silk, but was made from a tougher fabric. Tony had bought it on Abby’s say-so because it brought out the green in his eyes, but he’d brought it along on the assignment because it would also contrast nicely with his purple collar. It was one of those items of clothing that wouldn’t be out of place on the club scene, yet was simple and classy enough that it could be worn in more… restrained situations too. It was actually an ideal choice for that very reason- he could wear it at the business deal, yet also look good at the club later, which was what Davies needed to see: Thompson confident that they’d conclude their business quickly and be off to celebrate over drinks at the club afterwards.

Once the decision was made, Tony dressed quickly, deciding the shirt was classy enough and the jeans were tight enough to get away with his slightly scruffy boots. In short order he was in the passenger seat of the car, sitting next to a Gibbs who was wearing beige trousers and a dove grey shirt that complimented both his hair and eyes. Tony thought he looked pretty hot, but admitted to himself that he might be biased.

“Who knew you could dress so well?” he teased, hoping to lighten his mood a little.

“I have nice clothes, I just choose not to destroy them at work and actually keep them _nice_ ,” Gibbs retorted with a smirk. Tony simply stuck his tongue out, then smiled to himself when Gibbs snorted in amusement and turned back to the road with a shake of his head.

*~*

With Gibbs at the wheel they arrived at the club in short order. Davies and Nemec were already waiting by their own car, but Gibbs didn’t immediately get out to join them. Tony had been staring out the window, starting to feel the apprehension grow, but he glanced at Gibbs once the engine cut off and the other man didn’t move. He found the intense blue eyes assessing him, then a hand appeared on his nape- just resting there.

“Relax, Tony,” Gibbs said gently and Tony realised just how tight the muscles across his back and shoulders had become. He tried to follow Gibbs order with limited success. “Do you need me to drop you into subspace?”

It was on Tony’s lips to say no immediately, but he held it in and gave the question proper consideration. Did he want Gibbs to drop him? No. Did he _need_ Gibbs to drop him? Maybe, but he didn’t want to let Gibbs down by needing it, even though he knew that was stupid, because it was Gibbs who’d taught him in the first place.

“It doesn’t make you weak if you say yes, Tony.” Gibbs said.

“You a mind reader now?” Tony questioned.

“Nah, but I can read you pretty well,” Gibbs replied with a wry grin.

Tony chuckled briefly, but quickly sobered and gave it real thought. Yes, he felt nervous and a little tense, but was it too much to handle? Tony wasn’t being conceited when he said he was a good undercover agent; Gibbs himself had said to Ducky not even an hour earlier that Tony was a professional, and Tony could feel that professionalism starting to take over. Now that he’d experienced subspace, Tony realised that his undercover skill stemmed from a similar state of mind, a kind of zone where Tony DiNozzo faded away into the background and whatever character he was playing took over. He didn’t have to think about how his role would act because he _was_ his role. Now the moment was upon him, he could feel Tony Schofield slipping into place and Tony Schofield was used to being restrained and taken hard, he just wasn’t used to it being done by someone other than his owner Jethro Thompson, so he’d be wary of Davies- a little flinching allowed- but not terrified and liable to attack or run away. With that realisation, Tony realised that he didn’t need Gibbs to drop him yet, though it still might become necessary later on, depending on whether Davies pushed. He said as much to Gibbs, looking him straight in the eye so the other man could see his sincerity.

Gibbs gave him a nod, squeezed his neck gently and pulled him closer and gave him a brief, chaste kiss before getting out of the car. Tony did the same and joined Gibbs, moving off a step behind and to the right as Gibbs crossed the car park.

Gibbs and Davies exchanged pleasantries and they were soon on their way to wherever it was Davies kept his ‘merchandise’. They kept up the light small talk in the front seats, while Tony and Nemec sat in the rear, behind their respective owners. Tony was content to watch the world go by, trying to get an idea of where they were going; not that it would help if he did guess, as he hadn’t been given permission to speak, so couldn’t give the surveillance team any information anyway. Still, it passed the time and helped take his mind off the hostile glare coming from the man beside him. He didn’t know what he’d done to upset Nemec so much, but again, he didn’t have permission to speak, so he couldn’t ask and Nemec couldn’t answer. At least Davies hadn’t done anything to remind him of the day before. He was obviously in business-mode and hadn’t really given Tony more than a glance, a fact for which Tony was immensely grateful.

It didn’t take Tony long to realise they were heading for the docks- it made sense, after all, as the ‘merchandise’ was brought in by ship. That didn’t really help narrow things down, however, as the docks were the size of a small town, with used and disused warehouses and a veritable forest of cargo containers. He could only hope that the surveillance teams would be able to figure their destination out quicker than he could through the use of the aerial satellite pictures Abby would be sending to their laptops.

After another five or ten minutes had passed, he felt confident in guessing they were heading for the middle-aged part of the area. This made sense to Tony and showed that Nemec and Davies had shrewd minds. It wasn’t wise to set up shop in the most derelict areas- yes, there was little likelihood of random passers by spotting you, but it was always the first place law enforcement looked and then the lack of traffic worked against you. The newer areas were too busy, by contrast. That’s where all the big businesses were, and they all had large staffs, which meant lots of traffic and the easy potential of being spotted. Similarly, it would be far too risky for Nemec and Davies to leave their human cargo on the Navy yard section of the docks. That place was always busy and it was difficult to get civilians into the area. But the middle-aged part of the docks was ideal- enough small businesses around to make traffic unnoteworthy, but not so much that there were large numbers of people ready to stumble on things they shouldn’t see.

Unfortunately, that area was also the largest section of the docks, so again, Tony hoped the combination of overhead photos and their GPS tracking would give the surveillance teams a better guess at the final destination. He guessed only time would tell.

Another thought occurred to Tony while he was studiously ignoring Nemec’s death-glares: There must be at least a few members of the Navy dock crew in on things. There was no way it wouldn’t appear suspicious for the captain and/or the first officer of the ship to head down and personally remove the cargo, not to mention the fact that it then had to be removed from the site without arousing any suspicion either. The only way that could be achieved was with help from the cargo workers, though Tony had no idea how many people that could be. Hopefully, their job ended once the cargo was delivered and they didn’t double up as guards. He guessed he’d find that out soon enough, too.

It wasn’t many more minutes before they reached their destination: One of the smaller warehouse units, the door of which was rolled up just high enough to let the car pass under it. As the door rolled back down behind them, Tony blinked to try to adjust his eyes to the darker surroundings. Davies switched the engine off and he and Gibbs got out, Tony and Nemec following and standing next to their respective masters. Taking a surreptitious look around, Tony spotted two men, both armed. He also saw that the warehouse was partitioned and while the large room they stood in was dimly lit, the next room had a lot more lights on. He assumed that must be the place where the merchandise was displayed.

Sure enough, Davies indicated that room with a small hand gesture and their little group headed through the doorway into a smaller room containing a few comfortable-looking chairs…and Bernstein. Tony wondered what the man was doing there and evidently Gibbs did too, as he said, “Albert, I wasn’t expecting you. Are you in the market for a new toy?”

With a shark-like smile, Bernstein replied, “Oh no, Jethro. I’m afraid I’ve been a little untruthful with you.” Tony went on high alert and felt Gibbs somehow tense without showing it next to him. Did this mean they’d been found out? But Bernstein’s next words filled him with a feeling of triumph instead of dread. “You see, while I am most certainly Mark’s friend, I’m also a little more than that: I’m his business partner. When Mark is ashore, we like to meet potential clients like we met you, with me being a helpful friend putting you in contact with the seller I happen to know. It’s an added layer of protection from the police. Obviously it works differently when Mark is at sea, but I’m sure you can understand why we take this precaution when it is available.”

“It’s a good idea,” Gibbs said. “I can certainly see how it would mislead any cops and even if you did get caught, they wouldn’t be able to pin much on you other than knowing someone who was acting illegally.”

‘It’s a good job we’re recording this confession, then,’ Tony thought, smiling inwardly.

While the two men had been speaking, the guards had filed through the room and moved through another door on the far wall. Tony assumed they were fetching the poor unfortunates for Gibbs’ perusal. Moments later his assumption was confirmed as the men returned with two heavily shackled men apiece. It seemed that the slaves were cleaned up once they reached the warehouse as, while they were still haunted-looking and underfed, they weren’t dirty. The guards manhandled the frightened men into a kneeling position in front of the chairs and Bernstein gestured Gibbs into one, before taking another for himself, with Davies taking the third. Tony and the other subs settled beside their owners and Bernstein launched into a well-oiled spiel, highlighting the various selling points of each man- leanness, cheekbones, eye colour and the like. The first set of men were taken out and another set brought in and the process repeated. It went on until Gibbs had seen 16 men and four women. He’d made notes on any of the slaves he was interested in and those were then brought in together for further comparison, until a choice was made. Tony felt frustrated at not being able to do anything during this time, but he was simply expected to be there next to Jethro. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he was kneeling very close to Davies, but, surprisingly, the continuing silent hostility from Nemec gave him something else to focus on and he didn’t feel the overwhelming panic he and Gibbs had feared Davies’ proximity would bring on. He was still trying to figure out what he’d done to upset the other sub.

As he pondered that, Gibbs and Bernstein moved onto the payment. Albert brought forth a laptop, which was set up to allow an instant transfer from Thompson’s bank account into his own. Payment made, everyone rose and Gibbs took possession of his new slaves, handing the shackles over to Tony, whilst he shook hands with Davies and Bernstein. “A pleasure doing business with you,” he said, which was the pre-arranged signal for the teams to come in.

Doors burst open and Kate, McGee, the second team and the SWAT team swarmed in, all shouting “NCIS!” and “Freeze!”

The bad guys didn’t freeze, but they were outnumbered and it didn’t take long to subdue them, without any shots fired. It wasn’t completely violence-free, however, as Nemec took the opportunity as the chaos erupted to leap at Tony. He took a swing, ranting about how Davies was _his_ master and how Tony shouldn’t try to steal him away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Tony exclaimed as he barely dodged the swing. Nemec tried for another punch, but Tony’s superior fighting skills (after all, it wasn’t often that a ship’s captain actually got close enough to an enemy to physically fight him) quickly subdued the man and Tony was soon straddling Nemec’s back, using his knees to pin the angry man’s arms until one of the other agents could cuff him.

In the brief scuffle, Tony had dropped the two leads Gibbs had handed him, but his two charges hadn’t moved, seemingly far too shocked and afraid to try to run.

Things were very anti-climactic after that. Tony always likened undercover ops with Christmas: days, weeks, even months of planning put into it beforehand and once the day arrived, it was over in minutes. Nemec, Davies, Bernstein and the two guards-who turned out to be Petty Officers McDonald and Patel- were taken away to be processed, while their unfortunate captives were also taken away to be checked over by a doctor and then held somewhere more comfortable while a decision was made about what to do with them. They were still illegal immigrants, after all; most would be sent back, but a few might be allowed to stay depending on what they faced back in their own country.

Gibbs, Tony, Kate and McGee stayed behind to process the scene. They had plenty of evidence on tape, but it paid to be thorough and, as Tony stood photographing the squalor the slaves had been living in, the thought occurred to him that the bad guys might get a few more years added onto their sentences for the lack of care shown to their victims.

Tony actually found himself glad to be doing routine work. As always happened after an undercover op, no matter how long it had been, the adrenaline started to wear off and he could feel everything pressing round the edge of his consciousness as the zone faded away. He wasn’t ready to face the reality of being raped yet, wanted to hold it together long enough to get everything written up and go home, where it would be safe to let everything come crashing back in to be dealt with, or not, as the case may be, and where he wouldn’t have to worry about what Kate and Probie thought about him, wouldn’t have to pretend not to see the worried looks they kept sending his way. Processing the scene helped with that, though Gibbs obviously knew something was wrong, because he stepped close once they were out of ear-shot of the other two. “What’s up, Tony?” he asked.

Tony swallowed the slightly hysterical laugh and the urge to retort ‘what isn’t up?’ There were so many ways he could answer Gibbs’ question, but he reminded himself that he was going to get through the rest of the case without slipping and they still had to finish at the scene, get reports at least preliminarily written and maybe even interview all their new prisoners. With all that in mind, Tony focused on a safer topic: “I’m just wondering why Nemec acted like that.”

“Why he attacked you?”

“Yeah…no…kinda,” Tony said with a frown. Gibbs simply raised an eyebrow and waited for Tony to get his thoughts straightened out. Tony took a breath and tried again, “I know why he did it- he told me as much; he was jealous that I was trying to steal his place with Davies. I don’t know what planet he’s on to think that, but that’s beside the point. I just don’t get why he chose to face arrest behaving like a jealous fourteen year old girl and not a naval captain with a certain amount of dignity.”

“He couldn’t help it, DiNozzo, he was in subspace,” Gibbs replied.

Tony considered that for a moment, then said, “So was that what I was like when you dropped me- A teenaged girl?”

“Nope,” Gibbs said, “Nemec was deep in the zone, Tony. When I put you under, it was only just under, you were still pretty much in control of your own mind, just a little detached from it. Davies and Nemec play hard, Davies probably pushed him quite far down- not all the way down, that wouldn’t be appropriate for the meeting, where Nemec might have to act independently if things went wrong, but I’d guess he was a good bit deeper than you were. Plus, you’ve got to remember that they do this a lot, that Nemec truly lives the life of a submissive. I imagine they play hard whenever they get back from being afloat- not much chance for the captain and XO to play those sorts of games on a boat!”

“So, does that mean you’re saying that Nemec can’t be held responsible for his part in this?” Tony asked, frowning a little.

Gibbs scowled back as he said, “No, Tony. He may be in subspace now, but there’s no way he didn’t have a conscious part in the smuggling. He’s in charge on his ship and there’s no way he couldn’t know what cargo he had on board and, like I said, it’d be impossible for Davies to be Nemec’s dom in that environment. No, they’re in on it together, both fully aware of what they were bringing those men and women into.” Tony nodded, then nodded again when Gibbs added: “Okay?”

“Good. Let’s get this place finished up and get back to the office, then.”

*~*

Pretty soon the scene was processed and the team were heading back to the office. Gibbs drove, of course, and Tony sat in the passenger seat; a silent presence studiously avoiding Kate and McGee’s concerned gazes. At one point, Gibbs was sure Kate was going to say something to Tony, but he caught her eyes in the rear-view mirror and gave a quick head shake, pleased when she got his message and stayed silent. Gibbs didn’t go undercover anywhere near as often as Tony, but he knew from experience, knew from his experience with the current case, that there was an adrenaline crash once the op was over and the bad guys caught. Add to that the emotional turmoil Tony had to be feeling and he must be clinging onto his composure by his fingernails.

For all Kate’s skill as a profiler, she never seemed to be able to read Tony. Sure, Gibbs encouraged their rivalry, but that was because he hoped Tony would one day have had enough of Kate’s assumptions and would show his true colours. Besides, their sniping did McGee good- gave him examples of how to shut the other two down when they turned their teasing on him, which in turn was helping him grow a spine when dealing with Gibbs. And anyway, some of the things they said to each other were downright hilarious and Gibbs knew he could step in when they got too close to the bone. The downside of all the rivalry was that they never completely trusted a show of concern from the other, despite their mostly sibling-like relationship. They were always waiting for the other shoe to drop somewhere down the line, and Kate had proven that she could be insensitive with some of the comments she’d made to Tony after the Voss incident, so Gibbs had the feeling that Tony wouldn’t want Kate’s sympathy right now, even if both men knew that she wouldn’t go so far as to turn Tony’s rape into a source of amusement.

When they reached the office, Gibbs sent McGee down to Abby with all the evidence, after telling everyone to write up their preliminary reports and then call it a night. The interviews could wait; let Davies, Nemec and the rest stew overnight. He’d considered sending Tony- Abby would be worried and would want to reassure herself that Tony was ok, probably with a big hug and rapid-fire questions. He didn’t like to deny Abs her comfort, but he also didn’t think Tony could deal with full-on Abby-ness right then. He knew for a fact that he didn’t feel up to it himself. With that in mind, he called Abby’s lab. “Hey, Abs. I’m sending McGee down to you with evidence, but you don’t have to rush it; we’re just writing up the prelims, then heading home and you should probably go and rest yourself.”

“Gibbs! You’re back. Where’s Tony? Why haven’t you sent him to see me? I’ll be right up as soon as I’ve got everything from Timmy!” Gibbs guessed from the speed and fervour of Abby’s speech that she’d been comforting herself with caffeine.

“No, Abs. I know you want to check on him, but I swear he’s okay and it sounds like you’ve got a caffeine buzz going. You know how he gets after being undercover sometimes- he just needs to hang on long enough to get his prelim written and then I’m taking him back to mine to decompress and have a quiet place to get his thoughts together. You can visit us over the weekend.” That would give them a day- Friday- to get the worst out of the way.

Abby made disappointed noises, but she did have enough experience of both men after tough cases and reluctantly gave in as Gibbs knew she would. She’d more than likely use up her nervous energy and concern on McGee, which was another reason Gibbs had sent him down to see her.

As he hung up the phone, Gibbs happened to glance across at Tony, only to find the younger man giving him a grateful look. ‘Should’ve known he’d hear my conversation with his ears,’ Gibbs thought with a mental shake of the head. He gave Tony a slight nod, then settled down to get his own writing done as quickly as possible.

Half an hour later, everything was going well. McGee had returned and all four members of the team were quietly typing. Gibbs kept surreptitiously glancing at Tony. He tried not to do it too often, aware that Kate and McGee were doing the same and that Tony would more than likely be aware of the eyes on him. No, he just glanced up frequently enough to check that Tony was still typing and hadn’t lost his focus and drifted into his head.

It wasn’t long after that that Kate’s printer whirred to life, soon followed by McGee’s. They didn’t have as much to write in their reports, having been stuck on the outside doing stake-out duty for the most part. They presented their initial reports to Gibbs and he sent them on their way, telling McGee to drag Abby away from her lab on his way out. As it was Thursday, he also told them to take Friday off and have a long weekend to relax.

He suddenly realised that he hadn’t spoken to Ducky, so he rang the ME’s mobile, not sure whether he was in the morgue or not. “Hey, Duck, you at home?” he said when Ducky answered his call.

“I am, Jethro.”

“Sorry to disturb you then,” Gibbs said.

“Nonsense, dear boy! What can I do for you? Is young Anthony alright after today?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that we took down the smuggling ring and are off the undercover now. We’re just finishing our preliminaries and then I’m taking Tony home with me. I didn’t want you to worry anymore.”

“Thank you, Jethro, most considerate. I’m glad you are both out of that deplorable situation with no further unpleasantness. I know you don’t like to be bothered immediately after finishing an undercover operation, but I will want to see Tony before too long, just to check his various aches and pains.”

“I guessed you would, Duck. Think you can hang on ‘til the weekend?”

“I shall endeavour to do so, Jethro. Please pass on my good wishes to our young friend.”

“Will do, Ducky. Thanks and we’ll see you in a few days.” Gibbs hung up, glanced across to Tony and said, “Ducky says ‘hi’,” then returned to his typing at Tony’s smile and nod. He looked up several minutes later at the sound of Tony’s printer. He watched as the younger man gathered the pages into a folder and stood, moving to stand in front of Gibbs’ desk.

“Done, boss,” he said, offering his report with a smile that fell short of his usual cheeriness.

Gibbs could see that Tony needed to get out of the office as soon as possible, so he took the folder and said, “I’ll just be a few more minutes. Go play your Tetris game until I’m done.”

“Boss, you don’t have to take me with you,” Tony said.

“I know, but I want to. Do you really want to be alone tonight?”

Tony dropped his gaze to Gibbs’ desk as he shook his head.  
“Good, neither do I. If we go to my place there’s plenty of space if we want privacy, but we have the company if we want it, too.”

This time Tony’s smile was shy as he turned back towards his own desk with a quiet “Thanks, boss”. He didn’t get very far, though, as he spotted Morrow on the mid-way landing of the stairs, on his way down to the bullpen. Gibbs spotted him, too, getting up to stand beside Tony as Morrow covered the final few feet.

“Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo,” he greeted, the corner of his mouth twitching into a brief smile at the perfectly synchronised ‘evening, sir’s that he got in response. “How are you doing, son?” he asked Tony and Gibbs had to suppress a smile as Tony drew himself up before giving his standard response:

“I’m fine, sir.”

Morrow looked at Tony a moment longer and Gibbs knew his old friend was looking beyond Tony’s statement and seeing the reality when he rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder briefly, saying, “You did me and NCIS proud with this case, DiNozzo. Good work.”

Tony lit up at the praise and Gibbs was struck with a sudden urge to hurt whoever it was in Tony’s past that made him react so strongly to such simple appreciation of his work.

“Thank you, sir,” Tony said.

Morrow patted the shoulder beneath his hand twice, then said, “Will you excuse us, DiNozzo, I need to discuss something with Gibbs.”

“Of course, sir,” Tony said, heading back to his desk, while Gibbs followed Morrow, making sure they were out of Tony’s hearing range.

“Didn’t expect you to still be here, sir,” he said.

“I had paperwork to catch up on,” Morrow said and Gibbs smirked.

“Of course, sir.”

Morrow gave him a raised brow in return, then turned serious again. “How’s DiNozzo really?”

They both glanced back at Tony, who had his head bent over his phone, presumably playing Tetris like Gibbs had told him to do. After all, how often was he ordered to _play_ the game rather than switch it off? Gibbs thought for a moment before saying, “He’s holding it together, Tom, but I need to get him home soon, before the dam bursts.”

Morrow’s look was knowing, but Gibbs didn’t care. He’d known Tom long enough that he trusted him with his feelings for Tony. Hell, the man already knew he was bi and hadn’t ever been concerned. Gibbs figured any objection Morrow might have would be more to do with the boss/subordinate angle than the homosexual one.

“You’re taking him home with you, then?”

“Yep. Figured we’d make it a long weekend. I’ve already told Todd and McGee to take tomorrow off. I didn’t think it would be fair to single Tony out, but I don’t know what state he’ll be in by tomorrow either.”

“That’s fine. I was actually going to suggest you do that. What about our traffickers?”

“I figure we let them stew overnight, then I’ll come in as soon as possible tomorrow to interrogate them. It shouldn’t take long- they can’t really expect to deny the charges with all the recorded evidence we’ve got.”

Morrow nodded, his smile feral. “Sounds good, Jethro. Don’t let me keep you from taking your boy home any longer.”

“He’s not a boy, Tom,” Gibbs protested.

“Just a figure of speech, Jethro.” Morrow turned to leave, but stopped after one step and turned back round. “Just do me a favour and keep it out of the office, I don’t care who you sleep with, you know that, but I can’t turn a blind eye if it’s brought to the director’s attention.”

Gibbs nodded. “We’ll be discrete, sir.” Morrow nodded back and was soon gone, leaving Gibbs to head back to his desk and once more focus on his report. There were no more interruptions and Gibbs was soon finished, printing it off and adding it to the pile he’d received from his agents. He shut his computer down and stood. “Come on, DiNozzo, lets get out of here,” he said.

*~*

The drive to Gibbs’ house was silent, with Tony lost in his thoughts and Gibbs wanting them to be in the house before they started to address things. It was late enough that traffic was light and Gibbs pulled into his drive before too long. They climbed out of the car and Tony grabbed his overnight bag while Gibbs unlocked his door- contrary to popular belief, he did lock up when he wasn’t there, at least, he did when he knew he’d be out overnight.

Once in the house, Gibbs left Tony in the living room and headed straight for the kitchen to get the coffee going. He returned a few minutes later to find Tony still standing in the middle of the room, bag dangling from his hand and wearing a lost look. He moved his gaze to Gibbs and the older man felt his heart clench at the expression. It looked like Tony had held it back as long as he could and reaction was setting in.

It wasn’t the same sort of reaction as the night before. Then it had been a physical response, adrenaline-fuelled, fight or flight, but this time it was more of an emotional response, the adrenaline crashing out of his system and leaving him wrung out and on edge. The case was pretty much over and Tony was somewhere safe, so he didn’t have to hold it all in anymore and it was time to deal with the fallout.

Gibbs was determined to help Tony through it, of course, but he also hoped that helping Tony deal with his pain would somehow mean his own pain went away, or got dealt with in the process. He could be there for Tony and hope that it assuaged the needless guilt he felt at the same time.

With all that in mind, he approached Tony. Not sure whether the younger man was tracking, he moved slowly and spoke softly as he called Tony’s name. As he moved closer he could see that Tony was shaking, fine tremors wracking is body. “Hey, Tony, you with me?” he asked as he stopped in front of the stricken man.

Tony’s gaze moved to Gibbs’ face and he nodded, though he didn’t speak and still looked very far away. The trembling was getting worse and Gibbs reached for Tony’s bag, putting it on the armchair behind him. He then moved closer still, gently gathering Tony to him in a hug, pulling his head down onto his own shoulder and cradling it there.

Tony stood stiffly for a moment, but Gibbs started rubbing Tony’s back gently with one hand and carding through his hair with the other. “It’s okay, Tony, just relax, let it all go. I’ve got you.” He carried on in the same vein, soothing words and gentle touches and was rewarded as Tony’s shaking reached its peak and arms that had been hanging limply suddenly shifted around Gibbs’ back, fingers clutching hard at the jacket he still wore. His breathing hitched, turning into a sob and that was it, the dam broke and all Tony’s anger, pain and fear came rushing out. Gibbs pulled him impossibly closer and hung on, keeping up the soothing motions with his hands, but having to give up the words as his voice broke on his own tears for what had been done to the man he loved.

Gibbs had no idea how long they stood there, but eventually Tony wound down, the wracking sobs turning to sniffles, then silence except for their breathing. Tony stayed where he was for a minute or two, then pulled away. He wouldn’t look at Gibbs, instead focusing on the wet patch his tears had left on the shoulder of Gibbs’ jacket.

“Sorry,” he said

“Not a problem,” Gibbs reassured, he lifted Tony’s chin with a finger, waiting until he had eye contact to add “and what have I told you about apologising?” He smiled gently and was pleased to see Tony attempt a smile in response.

“Thanks, boss,” he said softly.

Gibbs could see that Tony was exhausted after his emotional release, so he said, “Come on, let’s get to bed.” He retrieved Tony’s bag and gently steered him towards the stairs with a hand in the small of his back.

“What about your coffee?” Tony asked.

“You’re more important than coffee,” Gibbs said and Tony pulled up short, staring at Gibbs in shock.

“Who are you and what have you done with Gibbs?” he asked.

Gibbs gave him a gentle cuff round the head and mock-growled, “Watch it, DiNozzo!”

The humour was weak, the smile watery, but Gibbs took it as a good sign, replacing his scowl with a smile of his own and gently steering Tony on the way again. He was barely awake and Gibbs hovered close as Tony shuffled a little drunkenly up the stairs. When they reached the landing Gibbs stopped them between the doors to the guest room and his own bedroom. “It’s up to you, Tony,” he said, then waited quietly while Tony decided where he wanted to sleep. He couldn’t help the surge of relief when Tony turned into the master room.

Tony was fading fast, so Gibbs helped him with the minimum ablutions necessary, rummaged through his overnight bag for sweats and a t-shirt, all but dressed him and poured him into the bed. He smiled softly as Tony fell instantly asleep and stood watching him for a few minutes before taking care of his own nightly routine, including heading back downstairs to switch off the lights and coffee machine. He paused at the front door, then locked it. He never bothered when he was alone, but he wanted Tony to feel safe.

Soon he was sliding into the bed beside Tony, who snuggled closer. Gibbs got an arm under him and pulled him in closer still, settling Tony’s head on his chest and then quickly following him down into sleep, hoping Tony’s exhaustion would keep the nightmares at bay.

*~*

Morning came all too soon and Tony awoke to the strange feeling of the bed moving beneath him. He opened his eyes and discovered that it was actually Gibbs moving, trying to extract himself from Tony’s hold. “Mornin’, boss,” he mumbled.

“Go back to sleep, Tony,” Gibbs soothed as he finally made it off the bed.

“Time’s it?” Tony said a little more coherently.

“1000, but we’ve got the day off, so you don’t have to get up yet,” Gibbs answered, still speaking softly, presumably hoping Tony wouldn’t wake up any more.

It was too late, though, and Tony sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning, then stretching hugely. He saw Gibbs swallow and run his eyes appreciatively over his stomach where the t-shirt had ridden up and he gave a little grin as he lowered his arms. He really didn’t mind Gibbs looking at him like that, even if he wasn’t yet feeling like doing anything about it. That would come in time, he was certain.

“What are we doing today, boss?”

“I’ve got to head into work for a while, interrogate all our scumbags, but it shouldn’t take long with all the evidence we’ve got on them, then we can do whatever you want.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tony said, climbing out of the bed and retrieving his wash kit from his bag.

“You don’t have to, Tony,” Gibbs protested.

“I know, Gibbs, but I want to. No, I _need_ to. I need to see it through to the end and watch Davies go down for what he did. It’ll be closure for me.” Tony gazed at Gibbs earnestly, then turned on the puppy-dogs just to be sure.

Gibbs sighed and Tony knew he’d won before the other man even said, “Fine, go get ready, I want to leave in half an hour.

Dressed, washed, caffeinated and breakfasted, Gibbs and Tony arrived at the office before eleven and were in the interrogation room with Nemec ten minutes later. Gibbs had tried to make Tony wait on the observation room, but Tony wasn’t having it. He’d worked hard on the case and had paid a big personal cost, there was no way he was sitting out the final nails in the coffins. He smiled wolfishly at Nemec, then moved to lean on the wall directly behind the man. Nemec could see him if he looked in the mirror, but Gibbs stood in front of him and blocked most of the view. It was a routine they used a lot, keeping the suspect off balance because they couldn’t see all the players in the room without turning away from one of them and it was very difficult to turn away from Gibbs. Tony let some of the anger and disgust he felt come to the fore, hoping Nemec would somehow feel it and would be even more off balanced by it.

Things moved quickly; Nemec was back in navy captain mode, but even so, he quickly crumbled in the face of all the evidence Gibbs put in front of him, especially the recorded meetings. He was soon signing a confession and being led away.

Davies came next. He’d leered at Tony when he first entered the room and spotted him leaning against the wall, but Tony hadn’t reacted how the other man expected. Instead, he’d straightened to his full height- taller than Davies- and growled, “Don’t make the mistake of assuming I’m really a submissive, Davies. You’re on my turf now and I won’t be intimidated.” He’d taken a few steps towards Davies as he spoke, then moved back to the wall with a feral smirk as Davies took a single step backwards. He was a little harder to crack- the alpha dominant in him refusing to bow to the inevitable, making a few references to his raping of Tony- but he’d lost something of his fire once Tony refused to be cowed and his taunts only resulted in Gibbs getting even more in his face.

Gibbs had taken a short break after Davies was led from the room, checking that Tony was okay, letting him know he was proud of how Tony had dealt with his rapist. Tony enjoyed the praise and appreciated the few minutes to settle his mind again, but he was in the zone, just like Gibbs, and they were soon focusing their attentions on Bernstein. He wasn’t in the same class as Davies and the thought of facing a military court had him spilling his guts in short order. Being a civilian, he wouldn’t go up in front of the JAG, but neither Gibbs nor Tony saw any need to let Bernstein in on that fact, and it was Tony’s throw away line about firing squads that got Bernstein’s tongue flapping.

The petty officers, Patel and McDonald, were easily cracked, almost signing confessions before they’d even sat in the chair!

Feeling accomplished, Tony followed Gibbs out of interrogation and almost ran into the back of the other man when he stopped short. Looking up to see what had caused Gibbs to stop so suddenly, he felt white hot rage boil through him at the sight of Admiral Keeffe stepping out of the observation room ahead of Morrow.

Keeffe seemed oblivious to the hostility coming from himself and Gibbs. Hell, even Morrow looked as disapproving as his position as director would allow. The admiral strode the few feet separating them and stuck out his hand and exclaiming, “Gentlemen, excellent work. I can’t thank you enough for catching these people and I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what happened to you, Agent DiNozzo.” He managed to arrange his face into some semblance of distress at the last statement.

Tony wasn’t interested, though. He stepped round Gibbs, once again using his height to loom over the admiral. “Save your thanks and apologies for someone who gives a damn,” he snarled.

“Easy, Tony,” Gibbs cautioned, laying a light restraining hand on Tony’s arm.

Tony didn’t shake him off, but didn’t acknowledge him either. He didn’t even spare a thought for the fact that his director was standing only inches away from him as he got even more into Keeffe’s sputtering and reddened face. “If you’d given us the one vital piece of information that you’d already tried sending someone in, we could’ve planned differently and Davies might not have done what he did to me!”

Keeffe paled at Tony’s hostility- an impressive feat considering he was still red-faced- then mustered his bravado and turned to Morrow, demanding, “Get your man in line, Director. He can’t speak to me like that, I’m a rear admiral!”

Morrow simply raised a brow and said mildly, “I’m sorry, was Agent DiNozzo speaking? I wasn’t paying attention.”

Keeffe sputtered and reddened even more, though Tony didn’t know how it was possible, then he deflated with the lack of support and strode off down the hall without a backwards glance. Morrow nodded to his two agents before following the admiral.

Tony felt himself shaking with anger. Gibbs gave his arm a squeeze and Tony took a deep breath and held it a moment, before letting it out and turning to Gibbs in a much calmer state. He half expected Gibbs to tell him off for getting in an admiral’s face, at the very least he expected a head slap, so it was a surprise when Gibbs simply smirked at him and said, “Come on, DiNozzo, lets go home and get some lunch.”

Tony smiled and they did just that.

*~*

 **Epilogue.**   
**Four months later.**

Tony stood in Gibbs’ kitchen, well, _their_ kitchen really, seeing as Tony had virtually moved in. He was cooking lasagne as a celebratory meal- the trials had ended and sentences had been handed down earlier that day. All four navy men had been dishonourably discharged and also given time in jail; the POs both got two years as they were only peripherally involved, but Nemec and Davies both got eight years for trafficking and Davies got a further two for his rape of Tony. Bernstein had also faced civilian court and been sent down for six years. The team had all finished giving their testimonies two days before and Tony was feeling good.

With the bad guys dealt with, Tony felt that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, which in turn made him feel like he could finally take the last step with Gibbs. That was why he was making lasagne- it could be easily re-heated.

While he didn’t regret their first time together, Tony did regret that it had been adrenaline-fuelled and frantic, driven by his need to prove something rather than out of true desire. Gibbs had understood that, perhaps better than Tony had himself, and he’d never once tried to move things quicker than Tony was comfortable with in all the months since.

They’d quietly come out to their team and Morrow at the two month mark, to varying degrees of surprise, but universal acceptance, and Tony had all but moved in not long after that, keeping his apartment mostly for show and as a place to stay in when they needed to be close to work on a hot case.

On the physical front, it had been a slower build up between them, but with the final nail in the traffickers’ coffins, Tony felt ready to take their relationship the final step.

Gibbs had been in a meeting with Morrow and the other team leaders for much of the afternoon and Tony had decided to go home rather than wait, wanting to put his plan into action…not that it could really be called a plan, as such. The lasagne was in the oven, along with some garlic bread, and Tony decided to set the table before tackling the dirty pots. Neither of them were particularly romantic, they didn’t go in for candle-lit meals or such, but Tony did get out the tablecloth and place mats, which they didn’t usually bother with. He also opened a bottle of wine to let it breathe.

He smiled as he heard Gibbs arrive home. The timing couldn’t have been better if he really had planned it. He’d just fetched the garlic bread out of the oven and put it in a basket, which he was just placing in the middle of the table when Gibbs arms came round him and his strong body pressed up against Tony’s back. Tony didn’t even think about flinching, which still made him happy even after months of not feeling the instinctive reaction.

“What’s this?” Gibbs asked, voice right next to Tony’s ear as he hooked his chin over Tony’s shoulder to survey the table.

“Celebration,” Tony replied, turning his head slightly to brush a kiss against Gibbs’ cheek.

“Yeah? What are we celebrating?”

”Bad guys have all gone to jail,” Tony started, before taking a deep breath and adding, “and I want you to fuck me.”

Gibbs’ breath stuttered in his ear and Tony held his as he waited for Gibbs’ response. He tensed up, ready to pull away when Gibbs said, “No,” but Gibbs simply tightened his hold and carried on with, “but I will make love to you, if you’re sure.”

Tony felt weak as all the tension rushed out of him as quickly as it had rushed in and he leaned back against Gibbs for a second before standing and turning round in Gibbs’ arms, lifting his own to rest on his lover’s shoulders. “I’m sure, Jethro. I’ve wanted you to do it for a long time, but Davies going to jail seems to have been the final thing I needed to actually be able to ask you.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, then they were kissing, though Tony didn’t know who made the first move. After many minutes of gradually deepening kisses, Gibbs pulled back just enough to ask, “How hungry are you?” his lips brushing Tony’s as they moved.

Tony gave a short laugh, hazel-green eyes alight with amusement as he said, “For you, or the lasagne?”

“Either,” Gibbs replied with laughter shining in his eyes, too.

Tony pretended to give it some thought, before grinning and pulling away from Gibbs’ hold. “I’ll go switch the oven off, see you upstairs.”

He was upstairs not even a minute after Gibbs, but the other man was still somehow completely naked. Gibbs moved towards him and started slowly undressing him. Tony knew he wouldn’t ask if he was sure again, that wasn’t how they worked- Gibbs took his answers at face value and Tony was always truthful- and he gave himself up to Gibbs wholeheartedly, revelling in the care Gibbs lavished on him.

His undressing took a long time as Gibbs stopped to kiss and lick every new piece of skin he uncovered. It was intense and Tony was flying high even before he stood naked in front of Gibbs. A part of him was always amazed at how different Gibbs was as a lover; the focus was still there, and Tony had no doubt that Gibbs could be forceful and hard if they wanted that, but he also didn’t mind taking things slow and exploring. If any of their co-workers saw Gibbs like that, they’d be worried that he’d hit his head or something, because it was quite out of character. He was attentive and liked to make sure Tony got as much pleasure as he did. Sometimes, when they’d had words during the day, be it at work, or at home, Tony thought that Gibbs’ generosity in bed was what had allowed his marriages to last even the short times they had, because he was just as much of a bastard at home as at work most of the time. It had thrown Tony on occasion, but he thought he’d got used to it at that point and it was nice to be the focus of that attention and care, rather than the wham bam of his more usual one night stands.

Tony dragged his mind back to the present as they moved to the bed, lying on their sides and facing each other as they explored their partner with hands, lips and tongues, pushing each other higher, not needing any sound beyond the appreciative moans they drew from each other.

Things built between them until Tony rolled to his back and reached to the bedside cabinet, retrieving the lube from it and handing it to Gibbs. Gibbs took it and carefully pushed one finger inside Tony after a few more minutes of gentle kissing. His eyes were glued to Tony’s face as he pushed his finger in. He wouldn’t ask a second time whether Tony was sure, but he would watch for any sign of fear or discomfort and Tony knew it, keeping his desire-filled gaze locked to Gibbs’.

Gibbs worked him open slowly and steadily…until Tony squeezed his muscles tightly around Gibbs fingers, grinning at the groan it tore from his throat. Gibbs’ gaze somehow intensified even more and he started moving more quickly, still being careful to prepare Tony thoroughly, but doing so at a faster pace. Tony loved it. When Gibbs’ fingers finally found his prostate, Tony nearly screamed with the pleasure. He opened eyes he hadn’t realised had closed to find Gibbs staring down at him with a smug grin. He narrowed his own eyes, preparing to somehow retaliate, but Gibbs moved his fingers over Tony’s prostate once more and Tony gave up with a long moan.

The prep seemed to go on for eons and Tony was almost incoherent with lust, with Gibbs not looking any better. Why wasn’t Gibbs moving to the next stage? Tony was good and loose after having three of Gibbs’ fingers inside him for what felt like years. Finally his lust-addled brain realised that Gibbs was probably waiting for a sign before he moved to the final step. He’d had Gibbs’ fingers in him before a few times, but a cock was different, was something he’d not had inside him since Davies, and Tony understood that Gibbs needed that final permission. He made sure he had Gibbs’ gaze firmly locked to his own and said, “Please, Jethro, I’m ready, take me, make me yours.”

*~*

Gibbs groaned, hearing the words of trust and love, Gibbs finally allowed himself to pull his fingers from Tony’s body and replace them with his cock. He moved slowly, to allow them both to adjust and just to enjoy the sensation of pushing into Tony’s tight heat. They both moaned at the intense feeling as Gibbs slowly, but surely moved deeper into Tony’s willing body until he could go no further. He held there for a moment, savouring the feeling and allowing Tony to adjust to being full. If Tony had been going to freak out, he would’ve done it already, but Gibbs kept his eyes locked to Tony’s, watching his reactions. It was no hardship after all.

After mere moments, Tony’s hands loosened their grip on the sheet beneath him and moved instead to clamp onto Gibbs arms where they rested on either side of Tony’s shoulders. “Move, Gibbs!” he demanded and who was Gibbs to defy the order?

He moved, gradually increasing his tempo until they were both thrusting wildly, Tony’s hips moving with Gibbs’, shaking the bed with their intensity. Sweat poured off both bodies, breath came in harsh pants and the grip Tony had on his arms was going to leave Gibbs wearing bruises for the next few days. The urge to close his eyes was almost overwhelming, but he refused to lose the connection he had with Tony and fought to keep them open. Tony’s rapid blinking seemed to imply he was having the same problem.

Gibbs knew he couldn’t keep up the frantic pace for much longer; he was in great shape, but that didn’t disguise the fact that he wasn’t as young as he once was. With that in mind, he attempted to get his right arm out of Tony’s grip so that he could jack the rock hard cock trapped between their two bodies.

Tony wouldn’t let go, though. “No, I want to come just from your cock,” he gasped.

Gibbs moaned at the thought, but found his voice long enough to warn, “You’d better come soon, then.”

Tony just smiled up at him and repeated his words from earlier, “Make me yours.”

Those words spurred Gibbs on and he gave a particularly hard thrust, apparently nailing Tony’s prostate if the wailing sound was anything to go by. He needed Tony to come quickly, so he kept that same angle as he thrust again and again. “C’mon, Tony, come for me,” he growled on another particularly hard thrust.

He watched as Tony’s eyes widened, heard his breath catch and felt as every muscle in the body beneath him locked up. Seconds, hours later, he felt the hot stream of Tony’s come against his belly and felt the rapid contractions around his cock, and that was it. Gibbs own body locked up and then released his come into Tony’s body with a few more stuttering thrusts of his hips and a harsh cry. He collapsed down, just managing to catch his weight before he landed on Tony. He rested his forehead against the heaving, sweat-drenched chest beneath him as they both tried to catch their breath.

Eventually he felt able to move and pulled carefully out of Tony’s body, dropping down onto his back next to his lover. Tony immediately shifted across to rest his body against Gibbs’ and his head on his chest. It looked like they weren’t going to bother about cleaning themselves up straight away. “Okay?” he asked, dropping a kiss on the damp hair tickling his chin.

“Fantastic,” Tony replied and Gibbs felt the smile against his chest.

“It was pretty spectacular, wasn’t it?” he replied.

“Oh yeah. Thanks for waiting for my, Jethro. I think it was worth it.”

“Of course I waited, Tony , and of course it was worth it. I love you.”

Tony lifted his head slightly to look at Gibbs and smile. “I love you, too,” he said, before returning his head to its resting place.

They lay in companionable, sated silence for a while until Gibbs heard Tony’s breathing even out into sleep. He smiled and was about to follow Tony when his eye was caught by the purple leather collar hanging from the bed post.

Tony had stopped wearing it a few days after they returned home, but he’d refused to put it away. Gibbs had been concerned at first, afraid that it would constantly remind Tony of what Davies had done to him and thus hinder his recovery, but then Tony had explained why he wanted to be able to see it. He’d said that it reminded him of how he’d been able to trust Gibbs completely in that dark time, reminded him of the love they shared. Once Gibbs understood that, he’d started to view the collar differently, started to see the positive feelings it held instead of the negative reminders. He’d never spoken to Tony about it again, but he had made one alteration to it: The day after Tony had explained his attachment to the collar, Gibbs had gone to the local pet store and had a new name tag made for it, a symbol of his own love for Tony. He’d felt a little unsure once he got home, suddenly afraid that Tony would see it as a sign of Gibbs claiming possession of him, but he knew he’d done the right thing when Tony had hastily removed the old tag, which read ‘pet’, and reverently replaced it with the new one, which read simply ‘LJG’, all the while grinning brilliantly.

Looking up at the collar, its tag shining softly in the light from the ceiling, Gibbs felt his own lips pull up into a grin. Things were finally complete and Tony was healed. He knew the rape would never leave Tony completely, but he also knew that it was no longer in control of Tony, that his lover had taken back that control and would fight to keep it. Smile still on his face, Jethro Gibbs followed Tony into sleep.

END.


End file.
